Deluge
by MirroredShalott
Summary: Shanoa emerged from Dracula's castle a free, yet broken, woman. She returned to Wygol village and the aid of a friend long determined to release her from Ecclesia's lasting grip, but a dark reminder seared into the warrior's flesh calls the ire of a vengeful force. [revisions posted 3/1/2015]
1. In His Wake

**Author's note:** as of March 2015 this story has undergone a complete re-write. There have been a number of major changes to plot details and overall structure. As such, all returning visitors are advised to re-read this fic.

I started writing this story three years ago in an attempt to get a long standing idea out of my head. Its initial purpose was to explore the aftermath of one of my favorite games, but I did not anticipate that this story would become one of my greatest creative assets. It's given me freedom to explore my writing process and hone my skills without the massive, world-building pressures of my original works. So while this story has given me plenty of grief (and garnered the "your fanfic is _how many words?_" reaction from a few peers) I am proud of what I've managed to accomplish here.

This is a "what if" fanfic that begins immediately after the events of Order of Ecclesia. While the game features both a compelling plot and characters it ended on an ambiguous note that made me yearn to know what happened after the credit scroll. I also wished to delve deeper into elements that the game tended to gloss over (such as the Order itself and the villagers). Though this story is a fan creation I've tried to base everything on the limited canon material, including the central relationship between Shanoa and Laura.

At the end of each re-posted chapter I'll provide additional notes on the changes made from the original version. I'll also include some personal thoughts and cite what source material I drew inspiration from (if applicable). These are not required reading, but could help shed some light on my creative process.

Finally, this story does contain some coarse language, instances of graphic violence, and sex. Nothing in excess, but enough to warrant the assigned rating.

**Any elements or characters you don't recognize are mine. The rest belong to Konami and the Castlevania franchise.**

"IXI" indicates a page break.

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><p>Chapter One<p>

_In His Wake_

Emptiness had begun to eat away at Shanoa's heart, but she would not succumb.

It was an ironic development: this internal void that had cropped up in the wake of her revived emotions, yet it was strangely fitting. She had expected to die in the process of banishing Dracula. A part of her had even hoped she'd fall in battle. It would have been a suitable conclusion to a life steeped in deception. To sacrifice her own soul to end Dracula's reign would ensure that Barlowe's ambitions died with her. She was his creation, after all. She had been his Blade.

As Shanoa carved her way through the vast halls of Dracula's domain she compiled a list of her gravest sins. Her ignorance had been the driving force behind the events that culminated in the Dark Lord's resurrection. She was as much to blame as Barlowe in that regard. It was her blindness that had destroyed the only family she'd ever known; her hands that committed the deeds.

She degraded her own sense of self-worth in the hope that she would come to despise herself, and perhaps in that loathing she'd become numb to the fear that had resurfaced in her heart. By the time she reached Dracula's lair Shanoa had gained the conviction to offer herself as a sacrifice to Dominus so that humanity could live. She owed the world that much for her foibles. When she delivered the final blow there was a hollow ring inside her, and the warrior had uttered a whisper of thanks to whatever god existed that this last sacrifice would – at least – be almost painless.

But even in death Albus sought to intervene on her behalf.

Shanoa hated the overwhelming gratitude that had joined her grief at his passing. In the blackest reaches of her heart she had the gall to be thankful that Albus offered his soul in place of her own. When the ordeal was over, as she watched the castle collapse into the dimensional vortex from whence it emerged, it dawned on the warrior that she'd never wanted to die. Yet what kind of person would be glad that another had died in her place, especially when it was her own brother?

The grief and sickening joy had twisted her soul into the grip of an unrelenting vice, and it was this vice that sought to drain the life from her.

Shanoa clawed against it as she made her way through the dense forest and as far away from the demolished castle as her feet could carry her. Thin rays of light from the encroaching dawn glimmered through the foliage and illuminated the path in front of her. She would have lit up the waning darkness with a spark from Ignis or Luminato, but that was another source of concern. It had reared its ugly head the moment Albus' soul vanished from within her: Shanoa had lost the ability to summon Glyphs.

She made another vain attempt to summon a Glyph – _any _Glyph – into the palm of her hand, but the incantations remained elusive. It was as if the knowledge of summoning itself had fled her awareness.

This was no good. She needed to get out of this forest and out of the confines of her conflicted mind. She needed a human connection to distract her from the thoughts that raged inside her. If she allowed herself to stew alone in this grief it could become dangerous.

The warrior's feet guided her back to the only refuge she had left: Wygol Village.

The residents of the tiny village were still asleep when Shanoa emerged from the surrounding wilderness and plodded through the cobblestone streets. The air was cold in the early autumn dawn and a thin film of frost covered the windows of the buildings she passed. Shanoa knew each structure intimately by now. They all held memories of her often awkward interactions with the inhabitants of Wygol. It was strange to note how she both knew these people and yet was a complete stranger to them. An empty heart could not forge friendships, but for some inexplicable reason a few of the villagers had yearned for such a bond in spite of the fact that she was unable to return the affection.

She shivered when she stopped to gaze up at the sign that hung above the store in front of her. One of the villagers had managed to break farther through Shanoa's all-encompassing apathy than anyone else. She had made it her fervent mission to elicit any type of emotional response from the warrior. One of them knew Shanoa better than anyone alive, and perhaps Laura could give the broken Blade what she needed.

Shanoa walked up to the front door of the jeweler's shop and knocked with a heavy fist. She waited impatiently for a few minutes and was about to knock again when she heard a faint shuffle come from behind the door. Moments later there was the distinct sound of a sliding bolt and the door slowly swung open.

"I have no idea what time it is, but I swear to God in heaven, Marcel, if you're drunk I'm going to-" Laura started when she recognized the warrior. The two women looked at each other in shocked silence for a moment before Shanoa gave Laura an empty smile that did not convey any emotion beyond the slight curvature of her mouth.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, but I…" Shanoa's poor excuse for a smile faded. How in the world could she explain why she was here?

"It's quite all right, it's just." Laura paused for a moment as a myriad of questions rippled beneath her concerned expression. "You left without a word. No one knew where you had gone. Then that ghastly castle appeared, and I thought." She gulped. "I started to think that something had happened to you." Laura trembled a bit, as if the implication of Shanoa's absence made her afraid.

"How long have I been gone?" the warrior asked out of curiosity.

"Almost two weeks now."

"That long?" Shanoa's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The night inside of Dracula's castle had been unending, and as such there was no reference to mark the passage of time in the outside world. The castle's gargantuan size did not help the matter. Shanoa had suspected that it took days for her to traverse the winding halls, but for two weeks to have slipped by in that maze?

"You went inside that castle, didn't you? And now that you're back it must mean…" Laura gently pushed Shanoa aside and strode out into the chilly streets. She turned in the direction of the now destroyed castle and gasped when she didn't find it. Laura spun around to look at Shanoa and she surveyed the warrior with wide, concerned eyes. The younger woman's long black hair was knotted from endless skirmishes and windblown from the trek back to Wygol. Her blue dress was torn and covered in dark blood stains. Her platinum breastplate was battered beyond the point of repair. The heavy gauntlets and boots she wore had not fared much better than the chest piece. In addition, the warrior sported a number of new cuts and bruises across her exposed skin with a few that required attention from a healer.

Shanoa had never revealed the details of her mission or what had brought her to Wygol, but as she stood before Laura she felt the shroud of secrecy that surrounded her persona disintegrate.

Laura approached the warrior without the look of bewilderment that Shanoa had expected should her motivations be exposed. Rather, Laura's eyes reflected infinite tenderness. The jeweler cradled Shanoa's face in her hands and the warrior felt a slight crack in the resolve that held her together. A few tears escaped out of the corners of her eyes and dribbled over Laura's hands.

"When we first met I told you that I didn't want to know what brought you here," Laura said in a gentle tone. "I hesitated to ask more about my imprisonment and the identity of the man responsible because as soon as I spoke of him it brought intense hatred and despair to your eyes. You kept claiming that you couldn't feel – that your soul was devoid of emotion – but I knew from those first moments that your claims were false." She wiped away a few of Shanoa's stray tears with her thumbs. "That's why I've tried so hard to help you see that you've had your emotions all along. I've tried so hard, in the only way I knew how, to get you to feel something other than the negativity that seemed to drive you." Laura gave Shanoa a warm, heartfelt smile. "You smiled just now. It was empty, but for the first time you've smiled."

Shanoa closed her eyes with a shudder. Her mission was complete. There was no longer a need to keep it hidden.

"I think," Shanoa said in a whisper as her bottom lip began to tremble, "it's time that I told you about Albus. I think it's time that I told you about what I am. Not just because I need someone to know, but because I don't-" A sob broke past her lips. "I don't know what happens now. I just don't know."

A sudden gust of frigid air swept through the village and both women shivered against the biting cold. Laura's hands left Shanoa's face and she clasped one of the warrior's hands in her own. She ushered Shanoa inside the shop and closed the heavy door behind them with her free hand.

The familiar front room doubled as the storefront and workspace where Laura crafted her wares from the various gemstones in her possession. It wasn't a large room, but was adequate for what the jeweler needed. Besides, it was rare that Laura had more than one or two customers in the shop at a time. Wygol did not receive many visitors besides the occasional traveling merchant.

Laura led her to a door at the back of the store that opened up into the living area. The warrior had never seen this part of the building before and was surprised to find that this room was larger than the storefront. As Shanoa looked around she realized that the room's size was due to the fact that it served as a combination of kitchen and lounge. The latter was furnished with a plush couch and fully stocked bookshelves. A small dining table surrounded by four chairs stood on the opposite side of the room near a wood stove that gave off a steady source of heat. A staircase along the left wall led to the second level and, presumably, the bedroom. There was another door set in the wall underneath the staircase. The warrior guessed it concealed either a closet or a bath.

The jeweler guided her guest over to one of the chairs near the stove and motioned for Shanoa to sit.

"You have a few open cuts that need to be bandaged. I know I have some supplies around here somewhere," Laura said as she rummaged around her kitchen cabinets.

The heat from the stove began to wash over Shanoa's tired body and she felt her cold skin prickle at the sudden change in temperature. Along with the warmth came a sudden sense of calm. Her bottom lip had stopped quivering and she wiped the residue of her tears from her cheeks.

_I should tell her all of it. I need someone to understand, and she's willing to listen to me. _

Shanoa's gaze drifted over to Laura (who continued to search for the bandages) and she studied the older woman. Laura's curly, deep brown hair was tied back in a long ponytail, though a few stray curls had managed to escape the binding and framed her elegant face. The jeweler had always struck her as a bit of a fashion plate; a trait that was evident even in her nighttime apparel. Laura was dressed in a cashmere nightgown. The fabric was dyed a shade of light lavender and the garment held in place by a sash that tied around her waist.

"Here we are." Laura's voice interrupted her thoughts as the jeweler at last located the items she sought. She retrieved a cloth bag from one of the cabinets and carried it over to the table. Laura reached inside and withdrew a roll of bandages, a washcloth, and a bottle of clear liquid. The jeweler sat down in a chair next to Shanoa and examined the wounds on the younger woman's face and arms. "I'll get Abram to perform a more thorough examination later, but for right now I'll do what I can," she said as she reached for the bottle and washcloth.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. This is going to sting." Laura doused a large section of the cloth in the clear liquid.

"I can handle it," Shanoa said. Her tone lacked even a hint of worry. The jeweler smiled at her confidence and targeted a long gash in Shanoa's right forearm. She wiped away the layer of dirt and dried blood that had crusted over the wound. Shanoa felt a slight tingling sensation, but no pain as the jeweler cleaned the gash.

"I must confess that I'm a bit surprised," Laura said as she worked. Shanoa gave her a quizzical look.

"By what?"

"I use this solution to clean my own wounds and it usually hurts like hell. You haven't so much as flinched."

"I can endure massive amounts of physical pain," Shanoa said in a hollow tone. Curiosity flashed in Laura's eyes, but she did not press the matter. Shanoa's gaze fixated on Laura's hands as they tended to her wound. Her mouth hung open slightly, but she did not speak until the jeweler had finished wrapping the first bandage. "Have you ever heard of an organization called Ecclesia?" Shanoa's voice faltered when she spoke the name of her former home.

"I can't say that I have." The jeweler started to clean another cut.

"To understand what it is – or, to be more accurate, what it _was_ – you have to know about the Belmont clan." She felt Laura tense at the mention of the surname.

"They're the line of warriors sworn to defeat Dracula," Laura said. Shanoa's eyes shot up to the jeweler's face in surprise. Laura's expression was taut with something that resembled anger, but Shanoa was too exhausted to discern all the emotions she saw there. Laura kept her gaze averted from Shanoa's and continued her task. "I've heard stories of their conquests ever since I was a little girl."

Shanoa recalled Albus' revelation that the residents of Wygol were the lost survivors of the Belmont clan. She hadn't expected that any of them would be aware of their heritage, but then again the subject had never come up in conversation.

"Who told you those stories?" the warrior asked. Laura's terse expression grew even more rigid.

"My father was quite proud of his lineage. He made sure that I was well aware of the clan's 'holy deeds' and 'duty to mankind'." She shook her head. "But that doesn't relate to you. What matters is that I know about the Belmonts, I know about Dracula, and you don't have to repeat any of that history for my sake." Shanoa was tempted to pry for a more thorough explanation, but conceded that now was not the right time to inquire further into the matter.

"When the clan vanished sometime late in the last century their disappearance left many religious and political leaders nervous. They feared the Belmonts had met their demise and that, should Dracula return, there would be no one powerful enough to stand against him. Ecclesia was one of a number of organizations formed with the purpose of developing a successful alternative means to slay the Dark Lord. As each organization failed to provide satisfactory results they were disbanded; all except for Ecclesia. The members of the Order were the only ones who were able to accomplish their goal."

"How did they achieve this?" There was a glint in Laura's eyes that told Shanoa she already knew the answer to the question. The warrior's gaze turned downcast once more. She should have brimmed with immense pride in her pivotal role, but she could not recall a time she felt so meek.

"They created me."

"So that's what you've been doing," Laura said in a soft voice, but a hint of amazement lined her words. "The sudden appearance of all those monsters, that castle, and the reason why the night became so terrifying." The jeweler looked up, but Shanoa could not bring herself to meet the older woman's eyes. "It was Dracula's return." A tremor ran through the warrior as she nodded.

"I am the Blade to banish evil. I am the morning sun destined to vanquish the horrible night. I don't know why I was chosen for this task, and now." A lump rose in her throat. For a horrifying moment Shanoa teetered on the edge of something – a great black chasm of despair – but her sorrow did not spill forth. Instead the grief burrowed deeper inside her chest in an effort to escape her reach. "Now it's taken everything from me."

Her memory loss remained a persistent problem, though there had been considerable improvement since her battle with Barlowe. It would take some time before all of her memories returned, but Shanoa told Laura what she could.

She spoke of how she had been raised in the secluded Order, their discovery of Glyphs, and how she had been chosen to wield Dominus – the one weapon that could destroy Dracula in lieu of the holy whip. Though Shanoa could not recall the means by which she had been chosen to be the Blade, or by whom. She spoke of Albus: a boy who had been her constant companion since they were deemed siblings by Ecclesia's circle of elders. Shanoa explained how Albus had discovered the truth of Dominus and attempted to save his little sister from such a horrible fate, but could not stop Barlowe from sacrificing her memories and emotions. She spoke briefly of the hunt for Albus and the truths he revealed after she defeated him, but did not linger on the painful memory. She could not bear to think about the fact that his blood –

Shanoa recounted the details of Barlowe's betrayal, how she had failed to kill him before he achieved his wicked goal, and how she had watched as Dracula was freed from confinement. Duty and loss, spurred by the weighty knowledge that Dominus remained in her flesh, had driven her into the castle. With the Glyph she had slain the Dark Lord, but before it could reap her soul as payment for the victory Albus had intervened again.

"He sacrificed himself for me. He died in my place so that I could live." Shanoa felt tears reform in her eyes, but they did not fall. A powerful wall held them back. "And I…" She buried her face in her hands as a shudder ran down her spine. "I wanted to tell him that I love him. I wanted to tell him so badly, but I couldn't even manage to do that. I begged for him to stay, and I… I'm so selfish. I shouldn't have begged. I should have taken those last few moments to let him know how much he means to me. All I could do for him was smile, but what I gave him is nothing compared to what he gave up for me."

Silence encompassed them at the hefty weight of Shanoa's words. After a few moments she felt Laura's hand stroke through her hair in a soothing motion.

"Was it a sincere smile?" Laura asked. Shanoa nodded, but did not look up.

"Yes." Her voice cracked on the simple word.

"Then you told him. Your smile told Albus how much you love him." The hand in Shanoa's hair made its way underneath her chin and Laura tilted the warrior's head up. Shanoa allowed her gaze to find Laura's and she was struck by the unwavering confidence reflected in the jeweler's amber eyes. "Sometimes words aren't enough to express the true depths of what we feel. Sometimes a look can convey everything we want to say and more."

"Are you sure?" She was dubious of her ability to properly communicate emotions through a mere expression, but Laura's words had given her a spark of hope.

"I'm positive."

They sat in contemplative silence as Laura resumed her treatment of Shanoa's wounds. The warmth from the stove wrapped around the warrior and she took comfort in its embrace as she watched Laura work. It felt rejuvenating to cleanse herself of the battle. She still needed to say so much, but for the moment she could only manage so little. Yet there was one overwhelming feeling that the young warrior knew she had to confess.

"I'm afraid." She trembled at the implication of that short admission. She had not quaked before the Dark Lord, but now she was as timid as a lost child. Laura looked up at her and concern flittered across the jeweler's face.

"Of what?"

"I don't know where to go from here. I've been given freedom from Ecclesia, but the Order is all I've ever known. I have no family, and now I have no place to call home."

"Then stay here," Laura said immediately. "You can stay here as long as you wish." The warrior's eyes widened.

"I don't want to force myself upon you-"

"You saved all of us when you slew Dracula. Let me be the first to repay you," the jeweler said with some insistence. "You deserve so much more, but it's a start." She flashed her guest a warm smile. Shanoa did not have the energy to force a rebuttal. A small voice whispered in the back of her mind that she had manipulated her way into Laura's home, but she quickly squashed the thought.

"I _am_ very tired," Shanoa said with a sigh. Laura chuckled and finished wrapping the latest bandage.

"I'm almost done." Laura raised the cloth to Shanoa's forehead and tended to a large gash located just above the warrior's right eyebrow. "Quite a few of these are going to need stitches, I'm afraid," she said when she finished cleaning the cut. Laura wrapped a bandage around Shanoa's head in order to keep the wound covered. "It's not the most glamorous look, but it'll do for now."

"Thank you."

"Come." Laura grasped the warrior's right hand and led her over to the staircase. It was a short climb to the second floor and they emerged onto an open loft that served as Laura's bedroom. Shanoa did not take the time to study the layout of the upstairs as her eyelids drooped of their own accord. "You can sleep here." Laura motioned to a large bed that extended into the center of the room.

"You don't mind? I can sleep on the couch downstairs." Shanoa attempted to be polite even as her body began to give in to the demanding fatigue. Laura dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand as she left the warrior's side.

"It's much quieter up here. The couch is positioned next to the shop and the walls are, unfortunately, quite thin down there. I don't want to risk waking you on the off chance that I get some rowdy customers, or just _any_ customers, really." Shanoa's ears pricked up at the sound of a soft creak and the rustle of fabric. It wasn't long before Laura returned and placed a soft nightgown in her hands. "Do you need help taking your armor off?"

"No, I could unbuckle it in my sleep."

"That's a useful skill to have." Laura smiled once more at the younger woman. "You can leave everything on the floor and I'll clean it up later. Just get out of that filthy gear and into an actual bed. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

Shanoa nodded and she watched as Laura began to make her way down the stairs. The jeweler got about halfway before she paused and looked up at her battered guest. After a moment of contemplation she hurried up the steps and, before Shanoa could ask her what was wrong, Laura flung her arms around the warrior and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I'm glad you're alive." The jeweler's voice thrummed with emotion.

_So am I._ Shanoa admitted to herself as she raised her right hand to gently return the affectionate gesture. _So am I._

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><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> the first draft suffered from a lot of consistent problems regarding grammar and overall structure. I'll list them in detail here, but I'll keep it concise going forward.

I had a bad habit of mixing past and present tense. This manifested in sentences that read along the lines of, "Laura flung her arms around the warrior, pulling her into a tight embrace." The action "flung" is described in the past tense, but the continuation of the same action "pulling" is described in the present tense. The two tenses contradict each other because it describes the action as happening in both the past and present at the same time. Misusing tenses is a mistake I've seen a lot of writers make, but it's a noticeable and often persistent flaw.

Almost all of my general phrasing in the first draft felt awkward which is why this version looks completely different. It's not that the original draft was bad, but I've gone through and refined it.

There were so many grammar mistakes that needed to be corrected. Repetition, overuse of semicolons (I have an addiction, I'm sorry), ellipses galore, and my dialogue tags were atrocious. I'm older now. I have learned.

I altered the point of view to maintain the third person subjective style that developed in subsequent chapters. We're limited to Shanoa's point of view instead of switching between her and Laura without notice. I also added allusions to future plot points in order to maintain consistency. Shanoa's ability to resist pain, for example, was not mentioned in the first draft of this chapter as the idea solidified much later in the writing process.

Finally, I reigned in Shanoa's emotional state to something more controlled. She delved right into a mini-breakdown in the first draft, but it doesn't fit her character. I know how to write her this time around.


	2. In the Flesh

**Author's note:** there are a few important things to cover about the setting.

While the villager side quests are an optional part of the game this story was developed under the pretense that Shanoa completed all of them.

The exact location of Wygol Village has never been established by Konami. The game takes place somewhere in Europe, but I needed something more specific. After some research into the origins of villager names coupled with the fact that Dracula traditionally comes from real-world Transylvania I determined that Wygol is located in the Carpathian Mountains in eastern Romania.

Also, the age of these characters never comes up in conversation, but their official character bios state that Shanoa is twenty while Laura and Albus are twenty-four.

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><p>Chapter Two<p>

_In the Flesh_

Shanoa's eyelids slid open to investigate the source of the fluttering sensation that repeatedly stroked across her face. Her narrow line of vision was filled with the sight of something large, white, and covered in fur. She wondered what in the world could possibly be in the bed with her until the thing began to move and let out a quiet purr as it snuggled closer to her face.

"Brutus," the warrior's voice croaked as she recalled the name of Laura's cat and reached up to scratch the fuzzy feline behind his ears. Brutus leaned into her hand and he purred in contentment as the motion slowly began to coax Shanoa into an awakened state.

She had no idea how long she had been asleep. The room was lit by dim sunlight which gave her the impression that it was late in the day. Shanoa looked towards the source of the light and realized that the main contributor to the low-light conditions were the thick curtains that had been drawn in front of two large windows that almost covered the entirety of the wall to her left. Shanoa rubbed her eyes and sat up – the movement elicited an unhappy mew from Brutus – before her gaze began to wander around the room she had neglected to observe earlier, yet it was difficult to see much of anything with the curtains drawn. Shanoa decided to rectify that problem.

The warrior groaned as she lifted herself out of bed. Her body throbbed with a dull ache when she moved. She would no doubt feel sore for a while. She looked down at the bandages wrapped around her arms and was not surprised to see that the white fabric was stained with splotches of blood. The stains, however, were a dark red hue which indicated that they had been there for some time.

_The wounds must have already begun to heal._

Her bare feet padded against the hardwood floor as the warrior walked over to the windows and pulled back the thick curtains. Her eyes stung for a moment at the sudden influx of bright light, but they soon adjusted. She glanced up at the position of the sun and noted that, contrary to her initial impression, it was closer to noon. The windows had been placed on the side of the building that faced the nearby forest and her vision was filled with a cacophony of bright autumn colors. The leaves had just started to turn when she entered the castle, but now the only green that remained were the pines of fir trees. It was a bit unsettling to note the drastic change in scenery and Shanoa turned away from the sight. She _knew_ it had not been two weeks since she stormed the front gates of Dracula's castle, but it seemed that even the flow of time itself could be manipulated given enough supernatural influence.

She studied the now well-lit room in an attempt to push such thoughts from her mind. Shanoa instantly wondered how she could have missed the décor in front of her. The entirety of the loft screamed "Laura". The walls were covered with wallpaper; the displayed design was a tiled array of diamond shapes dipped in a blue hue. A gradient effect spread from floor to ceiling which rendered the blue at the bottom a much darker shade than the blue at the top. A separate pattern had been placed along the upper and lower edges of the wall where it intersected with either ceiling or floor. This strip displayed a wood texture with swirls repeatedly carved into it. It was an ascetically pleasing design. A bit extravagant for her taste, but not one that Shanoa considered gaudy.

The bed she had slept in was spacious, though not quite large enough to comfortably fit two people. The headboard butted up against the center of the right wall. It was a bit of a mess at the moment; the dark gray comforter was bunched on one side of the bed and exposed the cream colored sheets beneath. Shanoa checked to make sure that she didn't leave any blood stains on the fabric and was relieved to find none.

A wide bookcase stood on the opposite side of the bed. It was filled with a variety of texts, though Shanoa could not make out any of the titles from where she stood. A railing rose up behind the bookcase and spanned almost the entire length of the room in order to prevent someone from taking an accidental tumble down the stairs it guarded.

A giant wardrobe took up nearly half of the space on the left wall. It was an impressive piece of furniture, and upon closer inspection it became evident that someone had put great effort into the crafting process. An intricate, swirling design accented by silver inlays had been carved along the edges of the doors. The wood had been covered in deep brown lacquer paint and light gleamed off its polished surface.

Shanoa caught a glimpse of herself in a full length mirror that hung next to the wardrobe and her heart sank in her chest. Her long hair had twisted itself into a black mass of tangles and she dreaded the prospect of tending to the beast. Numerous bruises had appeared along her jaw and neck while she slept. Shanoa was thankful that her face had managed to escape the castle with minor damage save for the bandaged cut on her forehead. The sleeves of the teal nightgown that Laura had given her did not extend far enough to cover her forearms. The longer she stared at her reflection the more she wished that they did. The sight of her arms engulfed by the bloody bandages was not a pleasant one.

She noted that the sash around her waist had loosened in her sleep. Shanoa retied the bow and paused at a slight pang that arose from the light pressure, but the sensation disappeared almost immediately. Perhaps her back had suffered injury as well?

Her eyes wandered to the right and focused on a waist-high cabinet made in the same style as the wardrobe. Curiosity drove Shanoa to peek inside and she discovered a large collection of jewelry. Necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and hair pins of varying designs had been organized by color on the cabinet shelves. Shanoa wondered if Laura had crafted all of the pieces herself, but the array of styles led her to believe that the collection included the work of multiple artists.

She was a bit perplexed as to the necessity of such an extensive collection. The warrior did not wear jewelry apart from the enchanted accessories that gave her some kind of a boon in battle. She understood the visual appeal, but in her experience most jewelry was clunky and impractical. Besides, it was nigh impossible to wear a bracelet and gauntlets at the same time, and one was much more desirable to a warrior than the other. She closed the cabinet doors with a slight shake of her head.

_Must I link everything back to fighting?_

Shanoa stood up to leave, but she stopped when her attention was caught by an object she had somehow overlooked. On top of the cabinet sat a sculpture that Shanoa could only describe as gorgeous. It was a vase that held two jeweled lilies. The former was constructed from linked strands of gold and silver wire. The gold strings in particular had been manipulated to form the image of a tree upon the silver surface of the vase. The lilies' petals were a collage of various gemstones set into a silver base. The colors of the jewels held a consistent hue for each flower. One blossom shone with a deep pink radiance while the other emitted a bright orange glow as the sunlight caught and danced within the precious stones. The stems of the flowers were made from swirling green glass; the rods anchored them inside the vase.

Her appreciation of the sculpture was interrupted by a loud growl from her stomach and Shanoa became acutely aware of the needling hunger in her gut. She had brought food with her into the castle, but she had no way to pinpoint how long ago her last meal was. Shanoa rubbed her howling stomach as she decided to go in search of something to sate her ravenous appetite.

Shanoa's eyes drifted to the spot on the floor where she had deposited her battered armor. It was vacant now; she assumed that Laura had taken the pieces while she slept. Her gaze skirted back to the railing and she noted that her dress was gone as well. Shanoa had hung the garment over the banister after she changed into the nightgown Laura had given her. She made a mental note to inquire about them later.

She caught the scent of a delicious aroma as she crept down the stairs and her spirits rose at the prospect of an impending meal. Shanoa's eyes roamed the ground floor as she reached the bottom of the steps and spied Laura. The jeweler was curled up on the couch on the opposite side of the room with her eyes glued to a book in her hands. Laura was wearing a scarlet dress similar to the one that she had been wearing when Shanoa had first found her in the crystalline enclosure, though this outfit was not as ornate. Her long hair hung loose and Laura had forgone the cloth band she often weaved through it. As always, an intricate necklace hung around her neck. Shanoa had noticed previously that Laura wore a different piece each time the warrior visited Wygol. This time was no different as the necklace was an unfamiliar one made of sapphire and polished jade.

Shanoa made another brief assessment of the interior décor. The wallpaper on this floor was of the same design and color as the one upstairs and the furniture was crafted in the similar lacquered wood style. The plush couch that Laura sat upon was an off-white color that stood out against the blue tinted background.

The warrior cleared her throat in an attempt to get the older woman's attention. Laura's head shot up in surprise and her eyes made a frantic search for the source of the sound. Her gaze settled on Shanoa and the tension melted from her face. Laura's mouth curved into a wide grin as she marked the page she was on and set the book down on the couch beside her.

"How are you feeling?" Laura asked as she stood up and walked towards Shanoa. The warrior hesitated as she tried to formulate a truthful answer to the question. She attempted to assess her current emotional state, but all she could feel was a tightening sensation inside her chest. Laura's expression softened as she watched Shanoa grapple with a response. "Physically, I mean."

"… Better," Shanoa said. It was at least an accurate statement. "How long was I asleep?"

"Just over a day; you looked like you needed the rest so I decided not to disturb you." The jeweler was interrupted by a loud grumble from Shanoa's stomach. She chuckled while the younger woman winced at the sound. "It seems that you woke up just in time. Lunch should be ready by now." Laura made her way over to the kitchen and motioned for Shanoa to follow her. "When was the last time you ate?"

"I can't say. The flow of time was distorted inside the castle. That's why I was surprised to learn that I had been gone for so long."

"Distorted? I wonder how that's possible." Laura's brow knit in puzzlement.

"I was wondering that myself, though it's important to remember that Dracula's castle is not of this world. It came through a dimensional tear in the same way that the monsters did. The rules of reality seemed to shift while I was inside." Shanoa recalled the endless corridors, cavernous rooms too large to have been built by men, and the impossible nature of the architecture. There was no order to the castle; as if the entire structure existed inside the mind of a mad man. "Sometimes it felt like I was walking into Hell itself," she said in a whisper.

"Perhaps you were," Laura said in a solemn tone. Her words hung in the air between the two women for few moments before the jeweler dismissed the grave atmosphere with a forced smile. "But we can discuss such matters later. Right now we need to appease that empty stomach of yours."

Laura had stopped in front of the wood stove. A steaming metal pot placed on top was the source of the delicious aroma. Shanoa peered over her host's shoulder as she lifted the lid off the pot. It was filled with what appeared to be a vegetable stew. Large chunks of carrots, potatoes, and other produce floated on the surface of a dark broth. Laura retrieved a ladle from the nearby counter and dipped it into the stew. She raised the ladle to her lips, tasted her creation, and made a satisfied sound as she motioned to one of the cabinets.

"You can find bowls in there and spoons in the drawer underneath."

"Should I grab two of each?" Shanoa asked. Laura flashed her a grateful smile.

"If you'd be so kind."

Shanoa opened the cabinet in question and was not surprised to find it filled with fine porcelain bowls and plates. She pulled out the drawer below and had to stifle a smirk at the sight of the silver utensils nestled within. Laura lived in a small village in the middle of the Carpathians, but by God the woman was determined to be as lavish as she damn well pleased. Shanoa realized that she found it to be an endearing trait. The architects who designed Ecclesia's fortress ensured that the structure embodied the very definition of "extravagance". The atmosphere in Laura's house reminded her of the fortress. It held the familiarity of home.

The warrior grabbed what she needed before that thought elicited any sorrowful emotions. She handed the two bowls to Laura and the jeweler filled one with a few generous scoops of stew before she passed it back to her guest. With food and spoon in hand, Shanoa walked over to the table and sat down. She did not touch her food and watched as Laura helped herself and took her seat on the opposite side of the table. Shanoa looked at her expectantly as the jeweler raised a spoonful of the stew to her mouth. Laura paused as she noticed the expression on Shanoa's face.

"Is something wrong?" Laura asked with a hint of concern.

"I just…" Shanoa's brow furrowed at her host's lack of understanding. "Aren't we supposed to say grace?" The jeweler raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

"Do you usually pray before a meal?"

"Of course, it's customary for everyone to say grace before eating." Shanoa recited it as she would a common fact. Her confusion deepened as an amused look spread across Laura's face. "What's so funny?"

"It's, well." Laura cleared her throat to stifle her mirth. "A lot of people do, but not everyone. Who gave you the impression that it was a universal practice?"

"Back at the fortress we always said grace before a meal. Even the least spiritual members of the Order observed the custom." Shanoa blushed and she looked down at her stew in embarrassment. "I guess I didn't realize it was optional."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. I didn't have the best response, though," Laura said with an awkward smile. "I just find it a bit unusual that an organization ultimately bent on resurrecting the Dark Lord would implement prayer as part of its daily ritual." Shanoa took a moment to consider her friend's observation.

"It was a front, no doubt. Though I must admit that I do not know how deep the corruption in the Order ran. Perhaps the lay members were just as blind as I was." She steeled herself against the surge of emotion that welled up inside her at the now familiar admission. It loomed over her for a moment before the wave was sucked back into a chasm of emptiness. The hollow feeling returned, but not before she felt the tidal wave churn beneath it; a festering reminder of the grief that awaited her should it ever break free. "Do you say grace?" Shanoa changed the subject in an attempt to distract her from the unwelcome feeling.

Laura stiffened a bit at the question. There was a momentary flash of hardness in her eyes, but as with the occurrence the previous day it was gone almost before Shanoa had the chance to recognize it.

"I'm not the praying type," she said in an even tone.

"Why not?"

"I've had some… bad experiences when it comes to prayer." There was a brief pause and Shanoa opened her mouth to ask the jeweler to expound on the comment, but Laura cut her off. "Besides, I just don't see the point of it. So there's no real incentive for me to pray."

"Does that mean you don't believe in God?" Shanoa had heard that there were people who did not believe in any form of deity, but to her knowledge she had never met such a person.

"Not at all," Laura said with a shake of her head. "I just believe that, if God _is_ as all knowing as people claim, then He already knows that I'm grateful without my having to say anything out loud. I used to say grace with my family when I was younger, but I realized that if you repeat something often enough the words lose their original meaning. It just becomes an emotionless recitation. If I'm going to invoke the name of God then I want it to be because I truly mean it." Shanoa nodded, but did not offer any further response. Laura shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I hope I haven't offended you."

"You haven't. I just don't know what to say." Shanoa shrugged. "I'm not used to hearing someone be so candid about their religious beliefs. Ecclesia's members were religious by nature, but it was not a subject widely discussed outside of the declarations that we were 'doing the will of the Lord'. Though it was not God they were referring to, was it?" She smirked at the realization. "It's funny how much of a difference omitting that first word in 'Dark Lord' makes."

"A crafty move, I'll give them that," Laura said with a slight frown. "Though you've got me curious about your own beliefs; that is, if you don't mind sharing them."

"Well, I…" A strange thought struck her. She could not recall the last time she discussed her personal beliefs in regards to faith. Was that omission due to her still-faulty memory, or had people avoided asking her on purpose? "As I said it's not a subject that I'm used to discussing. So I may not phrase this the best way, but I do believe in… something." The last word came out as a murmur, but Laura appeared to have heard her regardless.

"That's not very specific," the jeweler said in an almost teasing tone.

"I don't know how else to put it." Shanoa pouted and ran a hand through her hair. "There was much more focus on Ecclesia's code of moral standards rather than any concrete religious doctrine. In retrospect I don't think the elders cared whether or not you believed in a higher being so long as you were pious in nature. So I don't really know much about how other's view God, but Albus and I came to decide that there must exist something – some force – to counteract Dracula."

"What do you mean by a 'force'?"

"Dracula is the Dark Lord. He's powerful enough to command legions of monsters and bring, in the literal sense, a fraction of Hell into this world. He can even defy death itself, but despite his great prowess each time he's resurrected he's slain without fail by a Belmont hunter."

"And now by you as well," Laura said and Shanoa found that she could not glean an emotional response to that statement. She could not feel pride or embarrassment or sorrow or anger or conviction. It was just a statement of basic fact, yet something churned beneath her immediate emotional indifference.

"Yes, but my point is that the Belmont clan has been given the ability to kill the immortal. That power has to come from somewhere." Shanoa gestured to the air around them. "And whatever is the source of that power must in turn be greater than Dracula himself. Perhaps it's God, or perhaps it's some other benevolent cosmic force at play, but there's no denying that such an entity exists. I can't name it, but I know it's there." Laura considered her explanation for a moment.

"That's quite a logical stance to take."

"Do you disagree?"

"On the contrary, I actually find it rather refreshing. Belief in God – or, as you said, some benevolent force – almost always deals in the abstract, but you've approached it from a more analytical angle." Laura's lips curved into a smile. "You didn't explain a belief, you explained a fact you discerned from concrete evidence. It doesn't leave much room for doubt." She was interrupted by another loud growl from Shanoa's stomach. Laura laughed and reached across the table to poke at the younger woman's bowl. "I'd love to continue this conversation, but I think I've kept you from your meal long enough."

Shanoa blushed a bit at her rude stomach, but picked up her spoon with a nod and began to devour the delicious stew.

IXI

"There! That should do for now," Laura said and stepped back to inspect her work. "My God, but you do have long hair! It'll take a while to get all the knots out, though we still might have to cut some of it off, unfortunately."

"It'll grow back," the warrior said with a shrug. She had more important things to be concerned about than the overall fate of her hair. While she was fond of the length the loss of a few inches would not be noticeable. She ran a cursory hand over the top of her head and noted that the messy frizz had been dealt with. Laura had insisted that she "do something" with the warrior's disheveled mane before they went to see Abram. Armed with nothing but a comb the jeweler had grappled with the beast for quite a while, but at last managed to fashion it into a long, thick braid.

"We'll wait to make a final judgment on that until after you wash it. I'd just hate to have to cut something so luscious." There was a soft clack as Laura placed the comb down on the table. "Now, let me take a quick look at you." Shanoa stood up out of the chair she had been sitting in and turned around to face Laura.

The jeweler had taken Shanoa's torn blue dress and battered armor to Monica and Eugen for repairs. When Shanoa informed Laura that they were the only clothes in her possession the jeweler had become downright giddy as she insisted on dressing her guest. The result was a sleeveless, deep purple dress that was much too stylish for Shanoa's taste. The skirt flaunted a decent amount of ruffles and dark lace while the bodice was held together by a ribbon that tied between her shoulder blades. Shanoa still could not come to a satisfactory conclusion as to why she had allowed the jeweler to squeeze her into the dress without a fight.

A strange look formed on Laura's face as she studied the warrior. Something swirled behind her eyes; a thought or emotion that Shanoa could not identify. For some reason the look made the warrior suddenly self-conscious about her appearance and she glanced down at herself.

"Do I look all right?" she asked in a meek voice. The perplexing expression shattered as Laura's eyes shot up to meet Shanoa's.

"You look wonderful. I've just never seen you wear a dress outside of that blue one you favor so much. I think I'm going to have to try and break that habit." A mischievous glint flared in Laura's amber eyes.

"This seems to be a bit too complex a garment for the occasion, though." Shanoa toyed with one of the ruffles on the front of the skirt. It was certainly more extravagant than what she was used to.

"Perhaps, but the color won't show blood stains should any of your wounds re-open," the jeweler said. Shanoa found that she could not rebut that fact. Laura grinned in triumph. "Well then, my work is done. Are you ready to go?" Shanoa hesitated a moment and glanced towards the back door. There was the distinct possibility that any of the villagers they met along the way to Abram's stand would ask questions about where she had been, and they were questions that she did not have the fortitude to answer. Yet she would have to venture outside at some point. Her wounds required attention regardless of her lack of emotional stability.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Laura's brow furrowed a bit at the comment, but she did not ask for an explanation as the women exited the house and headed in the direction of the general store.

There was a slight chill in the air, but the midday sun was unobscured by clouds and the rays warmed the bare skin of Shanoa's shoulders. The streets of the small village were vacant; a fact that Shanoa found a bit strange considering the nice weather. Daniela was the only person they passed on their way to the general store. The old woman sat in a rocking chair on her small front porch with a blanket wrapped around her legs and stomach. Shanoa paused for a moment to greet her, but realized that Daniela was asleep and decided not to disturb her.

"Laura!" Someone called out to them as they approached their destination. Shanoa looked up at the sound of the familiar voice and saw Serge dash towards the jeweler with something clutched in his hands. "Laura! You'll never guess what I found!"

"Do I at least get a hint?" Laura cocked her head to the side with an amused smile. Serge did not appear to have realized Shanoa's presence and his eyes did not deviate from Laura. He laughed and stuck his tongue out at the jeweler.

"You're a psychic! You don't need a hint!" He gushed with boyish excitement, but something he said appeared to have struck a chord with the jeweler. Her eye twitched, though she kept her expression neutral.

"We've been over this before, Serge, I'm not a psychic. Whatever put that idea in your head in the first place?" she asked.

"My mom says that you're a gypsy, and everyone knows that all gypsies are psychic," he said. The jeweler groaned and held a hand to her forehead.

"That's right, that woman…" Laura said under her breath.

"You still have to guess!" Serge prodded her with his elbow and the jeweler peered down at him. The placement of his hands concealed whatever his prize was, but Shanoa thought she saw something squirm between his fingers.

"Is it slimy and gross?" Laura asked. The question earned a delighted giggle from the boy. The jeweler lowered her hand and grimaced at him. "I'm not touching another one of your frogs!"

Shanoa stared intently at the boy's hands as the exchange continued. Laura made a few passing guesses as to what Serge had found, all of which were shot down. At last Shanoa saw the thing squirm again and she caught a glimpse of a glossy orange tail as it slid against Serge's skin.

"It's a newt," Shanoa said. The conversation halted and Laura stared wide-eyed at Serge's hands. The boy at last noted Shanoa's presence and his face lit up with unrestrained glee. She wondered how he had failed to notice her earlier. Perhaps he didn't recognize the warrior with her hair tied back and clad in an unfamiliar dress?

"Lady!" He beamed at Shanoa as he addressed her by his self-appointed nickname. "Of course _you'd_ figure it out!" Serge opened his fingers and revealed his prize to the two women. It was, indeed, a bright orange newt. The small creature clutched Serge's palm as he held it up with pride.

"Ugh, well I was correct about it being disgusting!" Laura's nose wrinkled as she leaned away from the amphibian, but she did not back up. Serge ignored Laura's reaction and continued to grin at Shanoa.

"Anna and I knew you'd come back! Some of the grownups said you were dead – even mom thought the monsters ate you – but we knew that they were wrong! You're tougher than any demon!" Serge puffed out his chest. "I bet you're even strong enough to kill Dracula!"

Shanoa had to stop herself from wincing at the declaration. _Am I that transparent?_

"Lady, you're all bloody!" Serge's voice became filled with concern as he noticed the copious amount of bandages that covered Shanoa's body. "What happened? Are you going to be all right?"

"Serge," Laura said and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, "why don't you run and show your mother the newt?"

"Aw, I can't do that! She won't let me keep it if she knows about it!" The glee drained from his face, but his eyes remained fixed on Shanoa. "Plus, if Lady is hurt-"

"She'll be fine. She's strong, just like you said, but I'm taking her to see Abram so he can treat her wounds." Laura's gaze flicked momentarily to the warrior. "Besides, it will probably go faster if…" She chewed on her lower lip as Serge stared up at her. It occurred to Shanoa that the older woman was attempting to formulate a way to dismiss Serge without hurting his feelings.

"Serge can at least accompany us to the general store. Jacob might have something you can keep that newt in," Shanoa said. She was relieved to find that her shock at Serge's comment had passed. After all, there was no reason to believe that the boy knew the truth in his words. Shanoa tried to force a small grin, but failed at the attempt and settled for a soft look instead. Serge seemed taken aback by the fond expression. His eyes widened until Shanoa was convinced they'd pop out of his skull.

"Lady, you're… different," he said with a mixture of awe and confusion.

"That's a wonderful idea!" Laura agreed with the warrior's suggestion. "I wouldn't be surprised if Jacob has a few large jars he could spare. All we'd have to do is poke some holes in the lid to make sure that the little guy can breathe." Serge frowned slightly as he considered the suggestion.

"Well, I guess that could work." He looked down at the newt in his hands.

"Then it's settled!" Laura gave Serge a slight push in the direction of the general store. "Have you thought of a name for him?" she asked as the trio resumed their walk.

"Well, it has to have something to do with orange, because he's such a bright color!" Serge's tone reverted to his initial giddiness as this new topic distracted him from Shanoa's apparently perplexing shift in behavior. "I'm just having a hard time thinking of any names."

"What about Lily? Some lily blossoms are orange, you know." Laura winked at the boy. Serge stuck his tongue out.

"Yuck! He can't have a stupid girly name like that! It needs to be something cool!" The trio had reached the entrance to Jacob's store and Laura held the door open for her companions as Serge began to mull over what "cool" things were the color orange. Jacob looked up from behind the counter as they entered and he beamed when he saw the warrior.

"Ah, Shanoa!" he said with a cheerful wave. "I'm overjoyed to see one of my best customers back safe and… oh, well, mostly sound." Jacob winced as his eyes scanned over the warrior's bandages. "It looks like you've gotten yourself into quite a few scrapes since I last saw you. Under normal circumstances I'd recommend one of the healing potions I keep in stock, but you're going to need Abram's personal touch for those."

"That's why we're here, but in the meantime." Laura gave Serge another light push. "He needs your help with something." Serge bounded up to the counter and showed Jacob his new pet.

"I say, that's a beautiful newt you've got there! Does it have a name yet?" the shopkeeper asked as he leaned over the counter to get a better look at the creature.

"I haven't been able to think of one," Serge said with a sigh.

"He's going to need a jar or some other container to keep the newt in," Laura said. "Can you help him with that while we're busy with Abram? I'll pay for whatever you two end up choosing."

"Sure thing, Laura." Jacob beckoned for the boy to join him behind the counter. "Now, let's take a look at what I have back here and see if we can figure out a name for that little guy." The jeweler grinned as the boys set about their task with earnest and she turned towards Shanoa.

"That should keep them busy for a while," she said in a low voice. The jeweler gave Shanoa's arm a slight tug and the pair exited the shop. Laura sighed as the door closed and left Serge out of earshot. "I didn't anticipate that we'd run into him or that he might say something so sensitive." She gave Shanoa an apologetic look.

"He's naïve," the warrior said with a shake of her head. "Serge couldn't have known the truth in his words."

"I'm not so sure. That foul mother of his has undoubtedly put some outlandish ideas in his head about what _she_ thinks you've been doing." Laura snorted and pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. "That woman isn't an idiot, though. I doubt he pulled that name out of thin air."

"I take it the two of you don't get along. Did something happen between you?"

"Well, you've talked to Irina; that alone should be enough of an explanation. I can only imagine the kind of 'errands' she made you run." Laura punctuated her words with a sneer. "There are only a couple people in this village that I can't stand, but Irina tops the list."

"I take it Marcel is the other?" Shanoa recalled Laura's comment when she opened the door the previous morning.

"That's a well-known fact, though I should be grateful that he's just a visitor and not a permanent resident. At least, he isn't yet." Laura rolled her eyes and motioned for Shanoa to follow her as she resumed walking. "But that's enough gossip for now. Your wounds are far more important than my opinions."

They rounded the building to the large alley that Abram had established as his base of operations for his business venture. He had erected a stand, though it was nothing more than a flimsy wooden structure that the healer appeared to have given up on completing halfway through construction. A hand-painted sign was nailed to the front of the stand that decreed "SICK HUMANS ONLY" in shaky black letters. A second, smaller sign hung beneath it that clarified "NO MONSTERS ACTING LIKE HUMANS".

Shanoa spotted Abram hunched over a table that stood a few feet behind the stand. His full attention was fixed on a wretched smelling concoction that he was brewing in a beaker held over a concentrated flame. He was so absorbed in this task that he failed to notice the presence of the two women. After a minute of silence Laura cleared her throat in an attempt to garner his attention, but Abram didn't appear to hear her. Laura tried again with a louder grunt, yet the healer remained thoroughly distracted.

"Abram!" she shouted when her patience ran out. The healer jolted upright and stared at the jeweler in shock.

"For the love of GOD, woman, is the town on fire?" Abram asked. His tone was harsh and dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes made a frantic scan of the surrounding buildings nevertheless. Laura gave him an incredulous look.

"No, but-"

"That's already an unacceptable response!" Abram wagged a disapproving finger at Laura. "One should NEVER interrupt the work of a true master unless it's a life-threatening emergency!"

"Trust me, this _is_ an emergency." Laura motioned to the battered woman next to her. "Shanoa needs your expertise."

"SHANOA! You're alive!" Abram's arms flew out to the side and he seemed to consider embracing the warrior. His glee was short lived as his eyes roamed over the bandages that covered her exposed skin. "Barely! You… you didn't listen to me, did you? You went and bought the expensive medicine! You don't have to confirm it, I KNOW that it's true!" Shanoa was surprised to hear genuine hurt overwhelm Abram's usual eccentric tone. "Why, Shanoa? Why do you thrust yourself into dangerous situations? Do you ever think about poor Abram's reputation? DO YOU? What would I do if you died?!" Shanoa winced and looked away.

"I… I didn't realize you cared." She hung her head in shame. Abram gawked at her.

"Didn't realize? DIDN'T REALIZE?! If I recall correctly I made myself quite clear!" The healer paused as he considered that last point. "Admittedly I don't always recall things correctly, but that's beside the point! A respectable healer – something that I undeniably AM – can't have the people he treats dying on him! It spreads a bad reputation, to be sure, but the GUILT, Shanoa! The knowledge that I have failed a patient would be too much for my heart to bear! And believe me, after 'the incident' I have my fair share of guilt to go around!"

"Abram, please, she's been through the ringer," Laura beseeched him. "She doesn't need you to lecture her right now. She needs you to help her." Abram huffed and walked over to Shanoa. He circled around her a few times as he assessed the state of his patient.

"Fine, I'll leave the lecture for later." He motioned for Shanoa to follow him behind the stand. The warrior complied as Abram dragged a low stool out from underneath the table. "Sit down so I can take a look at you."

Laura held back as Shanoa took her seat and Abram rummaged for something behind his stall. He stood with a grunt as he hauled a heavy wooden chest up from the ground and over to the table. He dropped it on top of the table with a loud bang, reached inside, and withdrew a small dagger. Shanoa raised a cursory eyebrow at Abram and he responded with an incredulous look.

"What, do you think I'm crazy or something? I'm just going to cut those bandages off." Abram took Shanoa's right arm in his hands and began to remove the bloody bindings. "Who in GOD'S name wrapped these? It certainly wasn't anyone with even an inkling of healing ability."

"_I_ wrapped them." Laura narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't have your level of skill, but I do know how to treat a wound."

"That's debatable." Abram glanced up to meet Shanoa's eyes. "Don't put your life in the hands of amateurs. Next time you come straight to me!"

"The situation was… complicated," Shanoa said with a sigh. The healer scoffed at her vague excuse.

"It doesn't matter! A wound is STILL a wound regardless of the situation. I need you to promise me that, next time, you won't wait!" Abram grunted when more of Shanoa's hacked flesh came into view. "I retract that demand, because you know what would be even better? DON'T LET THERE BE A NEXT TIME!" The genuine hurt and concern had resurfaced in Abram's tone despite the loud volume of his voice. Shanoa made a frantic effort to come up with any kind of response, but the words failed to form on her tongue.

What had she done to make him care this much about her well-being? Throughout her mission she had been a mere shell of a person, and in many ways that still felt true. What had she done to endear herself to Abram or Jacob or Laura? It was easy to peg Serge's fascination with her on childhood curiosity, but the others were not so simple to decode. She supposed that Jacob was fond of her because she kept him in business and Abram cared about upholding his reputation, but Laura… Shanoa could not place reason on the depths to which the jeweler seemed to care about her. It was a fact that nagged at her.

The women were silent as Abram set about his work with fervor. Shanoa looked down at her arm as the last of the cloth was cut away and frowned at what she saw. The wounds had already begun to heal and didn't appear to be infected, but some of them were quite nasty and deep. Blood still leaked from a few of the more serious wounds. Shanoa felt a small trickle of blood trail its way down her newly exposed forearm. Abram muttered to himself as he placed the dagger on the table and retrieved a needle and thread from inside the chest. He held the metal needle up to the flame that still burned beneath whatever concoction he had been creating.

"At least Laura appears to have done a decent job when she cleaned the wounds. There's no sign of inflection, but THREE gashes on this arm need stitches and I doubt that will be all." Abram turned to address the jeweler. "I need YOU to come over here and hold this needle for me." Laura walked over to comply with his command. Once his hands were free Abram dived back into his medical chest and withdrew a cloth and a dark green bottle filled with liquid. He doused a section of the cloth and dabbed the wet fabric around a deep cut on Shanoa's bicep.

"This will numb your skin so the needle doesn't hurt," Abram said in an unusually steady voice as he applied the solution. Shanoa shook her head.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary." The healer gave her a quizzical look.

"Why not?"

"I've gotten stitches before without the use of any kind of topical. It's never been a problem," she said. Abram frowned and continued to apply the numbing agent.

"I know you're some kind of formidable warrior, but you don't always have to play the hero." Shanoa decided that it was not worth arguing over and left him to his work.

The solution worked fast and within seconds of application Shanoa began to lose sensation in the treated area. Abram took the needle from Laura, threaded it, and started to sew Shanoa's arm back together. She watched as the needle was pulled through her skin. She didn't feel any discomfort, but that had little to do with the topical. Shanoa had been trained to endure an immense amount of pain. The slight prick of a needle was, at most, an annoyance.

Shanoa waited patiently as Abram tended to her. He numbed and stitched together the most damaged flesh before he applied a healing salve to all the wounds. Then he took some clean bandages and wrapped Shanoa's arm once again. He repeated this process with her left arm and her forehead. He applied an adhesive bandage to the latter so the warrior didn't have to keep a band of cloth tied around her head. Once he was finished Shanoa moved to stand up, but the healer placed a hand on her shoulder and held her in place.

"NOT so fast! I still have to treat the wounds on your back," he said. The warrior gave him a confused look.

"There aren't any-"

"Woman, you run around with your back COMPLETELY exposed!" Abram made a circular motion with his finger. "If the rest of you is in such horrendous condition then I'll be damned if your back is untouched!" Shanoa sighed, but turned her back to him as ordered. The healer moved her braid off to the side and groaned as he was confronted with a new problem: Shanoa's dress. "LAURA!"

"Hold on, I've got it." The jeweler took command of the situation and unlaced the back of the purple dress. Shanoa blushed as she felt the bodice loosen and made a futile attempt to ignore her embarrassment at being publically undressed. Once the ribbon in the back had been untied Laura tugged lightly at the thin straps that looped over the warrior's shoulders. "Could you slide out of these?" Laura made sure to ask in a gentle tone, but the blush deepened on Shanoa's face regardless. The younger woman gulped and, after some hesitation, complied with her friend's request. Once the straps were free she moved to cover her chest with her arms, but paused when Abram thrust a shawl in front of her.

"You can cover yourself with this. I'm a healer, NOT a pervert!" he said. Shanoa took the offered shawl and held it over her chest as the dress was tugged down to reveal the tattooed flesh of her back. The warrior squeezed her eyes shut as she felt a cool breeze skirt across her exposed skin. Laura had rolled the bodice down to Shanoa's hips when she gasped at the sight of something. Abram made a confused sound, but neither of them made any comment as to what had elicited such reactions.

"What is it?" A pang of fear spiked in Shanoa's chest at their silence.

"There are giant black teeth marks on the left side of your lower back!" Laura said. "It looks like something bit you and… left a brand in its place." Shanoa thought she heard a hint of recognition in Laura's tone, but the jeweler did not expound upon her comment.

"SomeTHING bit her, all right." Abram moved around his patient to get a look at the front of Shanoa's torso. "The marks continue over the front of her abdomen. HOW did you miss seeing these marks before? Better yet, WHAT in God's name did this? If I had to venture a guess I'd say that this is the work of Dark magic." Shanoa's eyes widened as a realization struck her.

"Blackmore," she whispered, "when he shattered the onyx pins."

"Who?" Abram and Laura asked in unison.

"He was a denizen of the castle; a master at shadow manipulation who could transform his own into a giant beast." An image of the man – if one could have called him that – flashed through Shanoa's mind. Blackmore's physical appearance had been more akin to that of a rotting corpse. His skin had turned purple and bloated with decay; sections of his face morphed by decomposition to the point where they obscured his features. The hair on his head had turned a sickly shade of green and oozed a film of slime over the follicles. Despite the decrepit nature of his body the man had proven to be a formidable foe.

"He's the one who left the marks?" Abram asked.

"It was his shadow, actually. The Dark magic that coursed through the beast was so powerful that it left residual black marks on any surface it touched. I was only able to avoid being marked because I wore the onyx pins Laura had made for me."

"The gemstone has an inherent property that repels Dark magic," Laura said. She reached out and traced a finger over the bite marks across Shanoa's back. The warrior's breath hitched in her throat at the light contact.

_What the..?_

"As… as I landed the killing blow his shadow lunged at me." Shanoa's voice faltered a bit at first, but steadied as she spoke. "It was able to trap my waist in its jaws, but I didn't think much of it as I thought I was still wearing the pins. It wasn't until later that I realized they were missing and retraced my steps to see if I could locate them. I found the shattered remnants of the pins on the floor of the room where I had fought Blackmore, but I still can't recall just when he managed to tear them off." Shanoa looked down at the front of her torso. Her stomach churned when she saw the black imprint left by the beast's teeth. "It seems that bite left a mark after all."

"I'm not quite sure how to treat this," Abram said with an apologetic frown.

"Am I bleeding?" Shanoa asked.

"No, it doesn't look like the teeth penetrated your skin," Laura said.

"And it doesn't hurt, so that's one less thing we have to worry about." The warrior tentatively touched the marks with the tips of her fingers. They did not respond to physical pressure either. "But considering the fact that this mark was formed by Dark magic I doubt it can be treated with usual healing methods." Abram threw up his arms in aggravation.

"So what do you suggest we do? That I just LEAVE IT BE?"

"I don't know what we should do." Shanoa hung her head in silent defeat. This was not her field of expertise. She knew how to repel or counteract the various magical elements, but not how to remove their effects. If she had been poisoned or cursed the solution would be simple enough, but the brand did not appear to be something that could be cured by drinking a potion. If it was then Abram would be able to offer some kind of advice, but he appeared to be just as perplexed by this development as Shanoa was.

"We're going to need a different kind of healer to treat this. Someone who is proficient in Light magic," Laura said. "And I do know of a person who could dispel a brand like this one." Shanoa rotated her body so she could look at the jeweler. Laura's eyes were fixated on the brand, but the hardened expression the warrior noticed earlier had returned.

"Who?" Shanoa asked when the jeweler did not continue on her own. Laura failed to suppress a grimace when she replied.

"My mother."

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> I was never pleased with this chapter. There's this awkward learning period when you write characters for the first time and that unfamiliarity was obvious in the first draft. It always bothered me whenever I re-read it.

I made all of the same grammatical and structural changes as in chapter one so there's no need to go over them again. There were also some changes to the terminology used in reference to the various types of magic in order to keep it in line with series canon.

In the original version Laura's home was rather bare. It didn't have much of any decoration besides the vase sculpture. At the time I thought it fit what I had planned for her character, but as the story progressed I realized I was wrong. She is lavish (and somewhat vain) for a reason.

The conversation on Shanoa and Laura's spiritual beliefs was completely re-written. It was inconsistent with their character development in later chapters as their opinions were originally reversed. It makes sense that Shanoa, being logically driven, would have her beliefs rooted in facts rather than emotional inclination while Laura is more reliant on feelings. I also never explored Shanoa's beliefs in the original conversation, and that's too important a detail to go overlooked.

I also delved into Ecclesia's treatment of religion, yet another detail I failed to flesh out in the first draft. This story will further explore the Order's moral beliefs, but it's crucial to establish that they were intentionally vague concerning references to God or Dracula.

On the subject of monsters, I'm led to believe that (contrary to the gameplay itself) monsters are not a common occurrence in the Castlevania universe. If anything, their appearance is tied to the influence of some kind of supernatural force rather than being a part of daily life. The best example of this is at the beginning of Dawn of Sorrow where Soma is shocked when he encounters the first enemies in the game. Monsters are also rare enough that Marcel has difficulty getting his employers to believe in the validity of his stories. This being the case I've worked off the assumption that the hordes of monsters present in the game vanished once Dracula was killed and his influence severed. It makes the most sense to me.

Finally, I know Laura's cat is named "Tofu" in the game, but it just felt too ridiculous compared to the overall tone of this story. "Brutus" is more refined, in my opinion.


	3. Fragility

Chapter Three

_Fragility_

Laura could outright see the questions that swarmed inside of Shanoa's head, but opted to give the warrior time to ask them of her own volition.

She had to admit that the difference in Shanoa's demeanor was intriguing to observe. To the villagers Shanoa had been the perfect model of a calm and calculating warrior. Laura had seen for herself how formidable the younger woman was on the battlefield. After she was freed from the crystalline prison Shanoa had offered to escort her back to the village. That short journey was fraught with many dangerous encounters, but Shanoa met every challenger with her head held high and felled them all with a display of grace and precision.

At first Laura attributed the warrior's fortitude to sheer bravery in the face of a challenge. Shanoa did not hesitate when she wielded her Glyphs nor did she cower when a monster charged at her or sprung forth in an ambush. It struck Laura that this was a woman who did not know what it meant to be afraid. It wasn't until later that she began to understand just how accurate that epiphany was.

Shanoa asserted that her emotions had been ripped from her; that hers was a soul that could not feel, yet her eyes were far from empty. Laura had seen regret and anger reflected there. She watched as despair pooled behind the warrior's crystal blue irises. It was a void that grew more prominent with every visit. The inconsistency between Shanoa's claims and her own observations had confused Laura, but it wasn't until after the castle appeared that she realized what had been stolen from the younger woman.

That ritual she described had locked away Shanoa's knowledge of fear and love, and without those two emotions the rest of the warrior's heart had grown numb. Now that both of them had begun to return they laid bare a side of Shanoa that she'd never seen before. The warrior who had banished Dracula to Hell was shy, awkward, and naïve.

The young woman that sat before her was such a fragile thing. Every so often a tremor would run through Shanoa's body, but the warrior appeared oblivious to it. She seemed to teeter on the edge of something – a breaking point – held back only by a series of walls that effectively dammed her rekindled heart. The warrior briefly revealed her true self the other day, but soon enough the vile restraint had returned. Shanoa was suffocating the heart that lay beneath those walls, but Laura could not blame her for doing so.

The jeweler knew what it was like to fear grief and how it drove a person to keep everything bottled up inside because doing so seemed much easier than allowing yourself feel. She intimately knew the paralyzing horror of the notion that, perhaps, the sorrow ran to uncharted depths. That it could go on forever. That it would engulf you and never let you go.

But Laura also knew that Shanoa had the strength to overcome it.

Her main concern was time. The longer the warrior was allowed to wallow in that fear the harder it would be to break her free of it. It was a matter that required a delicate hand. If she pushed the warrior too much too fast then Laura risked reinforcing the walls. On the other hand, if she pushed too little then Shanoa might not acknowledge the dam's existence or its detrimental influence. Guilt bubbled up inside of Laura's chest at the thought, but she dismissed the feeling. She had mourned enough over past mistakes, but more importantly she had learned from them.

What Shanoa needed was to interact with the people she had saved on a level that had been impossible when love was absent from her heart. Shanoa needed to know what she had done for the villagers, and how profound those deeds were.

_But that mark…_

Thankfully the brand did not appear to be an immediate concern. Laura had seen such markings only a few times before, and all of them behaved differently. The first Dark brand she had encountered seemed to breathe of its own accord and spread across the infected area like a festering disease. Another brand had paralyzed the limb that it marked. This one, however, appeared to be in stasis. Laura noted that the brand emitted a steady thrum of energy, but the output was too faint to qualify it as an active spell.

Despite her prognosis, Laura did not want to simply let the brand be. At the very least Shanoa did not need to carry a physical reminder of her time in the castle. In the end she had concluded that the wisest choice would be to remain in Wygol until she had made some headway with Shanoa's emotional state. Salvaging the warrior's body would be pointless if she couldn't salvage Shanoa's heart.

"Can I ask you something?" The warrior shifted in her seat.

"Of course." Laura snipped another section of Shanoa's hair. After their visit with Abram the older woman had insisted upon tending to the disheveled mane. Shanoa bathed and washed her hair. Someone she managed to avoid getting her fresh bandages wet in the process. Once she was clean the jeweler spent the better part of an hour combing out knots and trimming where necessary. Laura was relieved to discover that Shanoa would only need to part with a few inches at most.

"It's just." Shanoa paused in hesitation. "I don't want to offend you."

"I doubt that you could even if you tried." Laura smiled to herself. "However, if it does somehow manage to offend me I promise I won't hold it against you."

"What makes Irina think you're a gypsy?" the warrior asked in a timid voice. Laura sighed as she ran the comb through Shanoa's hair once more.

"The proper term is 'Romani', though it's a fact that most people aren't aware of. 'Gypsy', while commonly used, is a racial slur. Regardless of terminology, she's been suspicious of my 'ulterior motives' since the moment we met. My physical features, the way I dress, and even my chosen craft 'gave me away'." Laura rolled her eyes despite the fact that Shanoa couldn't see her face. "She's been quite vocal to me about it. Then, to make her paranoia even worse, she surprised me in my shop one day when I was consulting the cards."

"Cards? Do you mean Tarot cards?"

"Yes, and that cemented in her mind the idea that I was some sort of wicked, evil creature who sought to defile the name of God. She keeps a close eye on me out of the irrational fear that I'll whisk her children away in the middle of the night or eat them or something ridiculous like that." Laura could not suppress her chuckle at the notion that she'd do anything to harm Serge or Anna.

"So… are you a gyp- I mean, a Romani?" the warrior asked. Laura winced as she realized she hadn't clarified on that point.

"Yes, I get the Romani half from my mother."

"Is her heritage the reason why she's proficient in magic?" The jeweler paused for a moment to mull over the question.

"It's not a subject that we often talked about. I know that magic runs in her bloodline, but she never delved into specifics as to why that was or where it originated. Being Romani may have something to do with it, but that's about all I can tell you." Laura snipped the last section of Shanoa's hair and stepped back to assess her handiwork. "That looks much better, and the length hasn't suffered for it." The jeweler's delight was cut short by a terrifying thought. "You're not going to stop trusting me because I'm Romani, are you?"

"No!" Shanoa whirled around in her chair to face her friend. Her mouth was held agape as momentary terror played across her face. "Of course not! I was just curious. Serge called you a gypsy and then you mentioned that your mother could…" The warrior gulped and clutched her abdomen. Shanoa had asserted that the brand did not cause her any pain, but its mere presence seemed to upset her. She had developed an involuntary reaction where she grasped or scratched the afflicted area.

"There's nothing wrong with being curious. I only ask because Romani tend to have a bad reputation, and I don't know what you've heard or been exposed to."

"Not much, to be honest." Shanoa pursed her lips as she ran a hand through her shining black hair. "The elders tended to disapprove of any magic users who were not members of Ecclesia. They maintained that magic is a powerful tool, and one that is often abused by those who don't give it the proper respect. Gyp-" The warrior cringed and looked away. "That is, _Romani_ were categorized as 'magically ignorant' for their use of it in fortune telling, but otherwise weren't considered a threat. As such, the elders didn't teach me much about your people; just that I should be wary of any magical inclination."

"Well, at least that isn't a damning impression," Laura said with a nod. "Though, in my experience, magic is treated inside the Romani circles with much more reverence than a mere parlor trick. The act of 'fortune telling' is often a ruse. It's quite dangerous to peer into the web of destiny, and so a seer reading the cards will often use more… underhanded methods of discerning their patron's fate."

"How so?" There was a spark of genuine interest in Shanoa's blue eyes. Laura decided to take advantage of the younger woman's eagerness. Shanoa had been quite candid about her beliefs during their earlier conversation; perhaps she could draw that honesty out of the warrior again.

"It's easy when you know what to look for. You can tell a lot about a person simply by studying their appearance. A fortune teller uses that to their advantage and sorts the cards in an order that will be the most revealing."

"Wouldn't the patron notice the seer tampering with the deck?" Shanoa's brow furrowed with puzzlement.

"Not likely; the seers employ sleight of hand techniques to conceal what they're actually doing." Laura had been taught a few of those tricks, but there was never an opportunity for her to use them. Perhaps later she'd demonstrate for the confused warrior. "A seer will show the first card and ask the patron a few broad questions. Often, once the customer knows the meaning of the card, they will reveal the reason why they want to know their fortune without consciously realizing it; the most common being monetary and romantic concerns. Even if the patron only gives clues they tend to be specific enough that the seer can discern the truth for themselves. After that it's easy to choose what the next cards will be. As the session goes on the seer will become more and more specific with intimate details about the person's life and put on a show of having revelations about how events will play out."

"So it's just a series of guesses presented in an extravagant fashion?" Shanoa asked. Laura laughed at the logical response.

"That's a blunt way of putting it, but yes, in essence that is exactly what fortune telling is." She smiled down at the younger woman.

"And it works?" Shanoa gave her an incredulous look. "People fall for it?"

"There's always a margin for error. A seer just determines the most likely outcome of the situation that they've been presented with. The prediction isn't always accurate, but the effectiveness of the reading depends on the willingness of the patron." Laura's smiled faded as she recalled the desperation she had seen radiate off the people who sought the seers for guidance. "People will believe whatever they want to believe. If a patron truly wishes to believe in the validity of a reading then they'll find a way to connect an inaccurate fortune with the events that occurred." Shanoa caught Laura off guard as her expression contorted. A surprising amount of anger rippled beneath the taut lines of the warrior's face.

"But it's not true! The entire practice is based in deceit!" Laura's explanation appeared to have hit a cord with her. The warrior's disapproval was understandable. She had just wrested herself from a life filled with such falsehoods. "What's the ultimate point of it? At best you're giving people a false hope." Laura placed a hand on the younger woman's shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. Shanoa's eyes widened in shock at her own behavior and she took a few deep breaths. The jeweler waited until she had reigned in her emotions.

"I've asked myself that question many times," she said. "In the end it comes down to two facts. First, some of these people are so desperate for answers that they will go so far as to consult dangerous forces to get what they seek. The seers feel that it is better to supply their patrons with a fake reading as it will usually sate their need. Second…" Laura wrestled with the best way to say it. "The Romani are a despised people. Society's hatred of us is so ingrained that most outsiders have forgotten why they cast us out in the first place. People will not approach us, they will not offer us work or a single coin, but when it comes to fortune telling and parlor tricks that attitude changes. The hatred is still there, but by catering to what outsiders want from us it ensures that we don't have to worry about where our next meal comes from." Shanoa searched the jeweler's face for something, but appeared to come up empty handed.

"How do you know all this?"

"My mother and I traveled with a Romani caravan for a time. It taught me… many things." Laura's throat seized up. Shanoa did not seem to notice her friend's sudden discomfort.

"Such as?" she asked. Laura shook her head and managed a forced smile.

"One thing at a time; I don't want to burden you with my life story." The lightness of her tone did nothing to offset the weight of her words. She could not say it out loud, but there were many things that she would never be able to tell the warrior. Laura carried secrets that she couldn't even whisper to herself in the dead of night let alone to another person. "Besides, I think I've already revealed too much by explaining how the seers read the future."

"But if Tarot cards are a ruse then why did you consult them?" Shanoa's persistent questions had taken a dangerous turn, but Laura did not have the heart to object just yet. The last thing she needed was for Shanoa to shut down again.

"The practice of fortune telling is a ruse, but the cards do have an inherent power. They can offer a glimpse into one's own destiny if you know how to use them properly."

"So you were trying to discern your own future?" Laura steeled herself as she saw the damning word form on Shanoa's lips. "Why?" The jeweler could not mask the surge of emotion that coursed through her at the question. She tensed in response, her expression hardened, but she could not tear her eyes away from Shanoa's inquisitive ones.

"My reasons are my own, and ones that I would prefer to keep private," Laura said in an even tone. "Please respect that." Shanoa opened her mouth to object, but halted as she appeared to be hit by a realization. The warrior settled back into contemplative silence, though she continued to hold her friend's gaze. Laura waited as the younger woman mulled over whatever thought had just occurred to her.

"I'm… sorry." Shanoa blushed. Her mouth moved for a few moments, but no words passed her lips. "I'm not very good at this," she said at last.

"What do you mean?" Laura felt the tension fade as she eased back into her supportive role. "What aren't you 'good' at?"

"These _things_ that appear to be so simple for other people: the ability to read a person and their emotions, not to mention relationships." Shanoa frowned. "I never learned how to make such personal connections with other people. So all of this… it's just so new to me; I feel like I keep tripping over simple etiquette." Laura knelt down so that she could be at eye level with the warrior.

"Didn't you have friends in Ecclesia? And your brother-"

"Albus spearheaded our relationship, not me." Shanoa shook her head. "Besides, I didn't need a connection with anyone else. Albus was the only one who mattered." Laura saw a crack in the resolve that kept Shanoa's grief at bay, but the warrior was quick to cover it up. "The other members of Ecclesia were veritable strangers to me. Apart from meals in the dining hall our duties kept us isolated from them. The truth of the matter is that the only reason I was able to approach anyone in the village in the first place was because I couldn't feel. An absent heart cannot fear instigating a conversation or feel anxiety over social interactions." Laura reached out and ran a comforting hand through Shanoa's hair.

"You don't ever have to be afraid with me, or with anyone else in Wygol. Even the least savory characters hold you in the highest regard," the jeweler said with a reaffirming smile. "I'd say that you've come a long way. You spoke to Serge and Abram without much trouble."

"Did I?" Shanoa's lips twisted into a sneer. "I said two words to Serge and he looked at me as if I sprouted a second head. Then Abram scolded me for being blind to the fact that he genuinely cares about my well-being. That doesn't seem like a very good track record." The warrior's voice held a bitter edge to it.

_Oh Shanoa…_

"You're looking at what happened in the wrong context. Especially in regards to what Abram said. He has a few screws loose, I'll admit, but he has a good heart. You said so yourself that he genuinely cares about you. He was distraught over the thought of losing you; of losing a friend." Laura's smile grew wider. "And Serge has nothing but admiration for you. You're focusing on his initial shock, but once that subsided he gushed over you." Shanoa's eyes lost focus as she recalled the day's events.

"They _were_ happy, weren't they?" Hope flared inside of Laura as she saw the truth begin to dawn on the warrior, but it was short lived. "Why should they be? All I've ever been towards them is a shell of a person. Why would they be glad to see someone so lifeless?"

"You're not lifeless." Laura suddenly reached up and clasped Shanoa's face in her hands. The jeweler stared right into her friend's bewildered eyes. She was determined to let the honesty in her expression drive her words home. "You have a heart, and one that has always cared. Everyone in the village knows it, we've seen it for ourselves, and I want you to see it too. You didn't just save our lives, you rekindled our spirits. An absent heart could not have done that. Your heart may have been locked away, but it was always there." Shanoa squeezed her eyes shut and Laura saw the internal battle against her grief etched across the warrior's face.

"I can't… Not yet…" The younger woman stammered with a slight shake of her head. "I can't touch…"

"I know, but please, let me help you." Shanoa's eyelids opened a fraction at the jeweler's fervent request. "I know what you're feeling, but I promise that I won't let you fall into that void." The warrior started at the understanding in her friend's words.

"How do you know?" Shanoa asked in disbelief. Laura's eyes softened and she gave her friend a gentle smile.

"How I know doesn't matter. What matters is that I know."

Shanoa shuddered, but she did not cry. The warrior raised her hands to clasp the pair that was wrapped around her face.

"All right, I trust you."

IXI

Laura was hijacked the following day by the presence of a group of travelers that wandered into Wygol. The jeweler had grumbled about the unfortunate need to open her store for the potential customers and made a passing comment about certain commodities that were "more expensive than previously anticipated". She suggested that Shanoa select one of her books to read to pass the time while she conducted business in the adjoined shop. Shanoa skimmed through the various titles and plucked a copy of _Beowulf_ from one of the shelves in the lounge. When Laura discovered which book the warrior had chosen she frowned and reached for a different text.

"Might I suggest something that's not so violent?" The jeweler handed Shanoa a collection of comedies by Shakespeare.

"I guess I could give these a try." Shanoa took the book and settled into the plush couch as Laura exited to the shop with Brutus close on her heels. The warrior made numerous attempts to absorb herself in the humor of the Bard, but the lighthearted texts failed to elicit even a small smile from her. At last she gave up on the endeavor and reclaimed the copy of _Beowulf_. It didn't take long for her to lose herself in the relatable world of the Scandinavian hero.

Shanoa did not know how long she had been reading when she heard a knock on the back door. She burrowed deeper into the couch and hoped that the visitor would leave, but the knocking persisted. The warrior groaned as she reluctantly pushed herself off the couch and made her way across the room to see who it was. She was not giddy at the prospect of social interaction, but the visitor seemed determined. The warrior opened the door and froze when she saw who it was. Anna stood in the doorway with Tom curled in her arms.

"You came back!" The girl beamed up at her. Shanoa shifted uncomfortably under the eager gaze and the memory of her awkward interaction with Serge replayed in her mind.

"Hello, Anna," Shanoa managed to say without stuttering. "If you're looking for Laura you'll find her in the shop."

"That's okay; you're the person I wanted to talk to." Tom lifted his head and meowed in agreement. "Serge told me he saw you yesterday and that you were acting weird. Sometimes he lies, though, and then he'll tease me for believing him. So I wanted to see for myself." Shanoa squirmed again. She could face a horde of monsters without flinching, but the mere presence of an unthreatening child made her nervous. She was no good at socializing.

"Acting weird? What did he mean by that?" Shanoa asked, though she was certain that she wouldn't like the answer.

"He said." Anna blushed and her eyes dropped to her feet as her shoulders drooped. "That you weren't acting like a zombie." Shanoa failed to suppress the wince that pinched her face at the accurate description. "I'm sorry! I- I didn't mean to..!"

"No, it's fine." Shanoa lied and forced a soft expression. "I… do you want to come inside?"

"I can't." The girl frowned. "I wish I could, but if I stay out too long then mom will notice I'm gone and come looking for me. And she doesn't like it when I hang around Laura's house."

"Yes, Laura told me about that," Shanoa said under her breath.

"Wait! There was something important that I needed to tell you!" Anna bolted upright. "Do you remember what I said about my dreams?"

"_You know, I have strange dreams sometimes. A dream where a man with a whip is fighting something scary."_

"I do," Shanoa said with a solemn nod. She could not forget the insightful statement. It was strange to think that this young girl was such a natural clairvoyant.

"Sometimes the dreams would get really bad. Sometimes I'd almost be able to see what the man was fighting, and I often woke up in the middle of the night because I was afraid that the dreams were real." Anna hugged Tom and the orange cat nuzzled against her. "When that bad castle appeared they got even worse. I was afraid that Tom might not be able to protect me from it. I was afraid that I'd see the scary monster in my dreams, and that it'd eat me and everyone in the village." Anna paused and looked up at the warrior. Her huge eyes brimmed with boundless admiration. "But then I had a dream where the man with the whip was not alone! He had _you_ fighting with him, and in that dream the two of you defeated the scary thing!"

Shanoa's heart skipped a beat as her mind went blank. _This little girl…_

"When I woke up the next morning I saw that the castle was gone! Then I knew that the dream had been real!" Anna's grin engulfed her small face. "You defeated the bad thing, didn't you?" Shanoa decided not to deny the truth and nodded. The girl giggled with unrestrained delight. "I knew it! I told Tom that, if there was something big and evil that he couldn't protect me from, I'd be all right because I have you to protect me as well."

"Anna!" A familiar voice echoed through the streets. Anna rolled her eyes at the demanding word.

"Ugh, that's my mom. I have to go or she might find me here." The girl turned to leave, but hesitated and looked back at Shanoa. "Serge was right, Miss, you're different. It's a good different, though; before you didn't look very kind. What you did for me was kind, but your face wasn't. Now your face is kind too!" Anna gave her a parting grin and bounded off in the direction of her mother's voice. Shanoa gripped the door frame as she felt something crack within her.

_What was that?_

IXI

The six travelers crowded inside Laura's shop were young sightseers who had, for some inexplicable reason, chosen to traverse a (until recently) monster infested countryside to watch the seasons change. They were all in their late teens and from rich families; Laura had easily assessed their social status from the teenagers' lack of monetary concern and bartering skills. The female half of the group descended upon the jewelry store in a frenzy and had spent the past hour sifting through her entire stock. They giggled, compared pieces, and tried on more combinations of jewelry than Laura had previously thought possible. All the while their male companions shuffled about the store. They paused on occasion to agree with random comments the girls made, but rolled their eyes at each other when the women weren't looking.

The girls approached Laura to inquire about prices or to request that she show them more pieces, but for the most part the jeweler stayed planted behind the counter on a vigilant watch to ensure that none of her customers attempted to steal her merchandise. On more than a few instances she caught the boys ogling her. They looked away when she made eye contact, but as the session dragged on the largest of the lot had the gumption to approach her. He sauntered up to the jeweler with a cocky smirk on his face.

"So, how long have you been in the jewelry business?" he asked in an attempt to engage her in conversation. Laura glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was handsome enough, she'd give him that. His face was symmetrical, his eyes were a bright blue hue, and his brown hair was well groomed. The egotistical expression on his face was problematic. It could prove difficult to convince the young man that she lacked even a shred of interest in him.

"Long enough," she said. She was not in the mood to humor him longer than was necessary. Her tone did not seem to dissuade him as it garnered an amused chuckle from the young man.

"I should say so. It looks like you manage to make a decent living at it. I, for one, would be a terrible jeweler. I wouldn't know how to appraise a gemstone if my life depended on it." His smirk grew wider despite her lack of response to his comments. "Why settle for such a small town, though? I doubt the local hicks have the capacity to appreciate obvious talent." Laura's eyebrow twitched at his ugly excuse for a compliment.

"I was born in Wygol," she lied. "I guess that makes me a 'local hick' by association." She hoped that the presented offense would pour cold water on his plan to seduce her.

"Then you must be the only good thing to ever come out of it." He smoothly transitioned into an easy recovery. The move made Laura suspect that he performed this awkward flirtation routine often. "You know." He leaned in close for the proverbial kill. "I have a map of the surrounding area. I can show you where we'll be camping tonight. It won't be too far, and I bet I can show you a few tricks that the backwoods men around here couldn't even begin to conceive of-"

"Hector!" He jumped when one of the women barked his name. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm conversing with a businesswoman! There's no law against that!" he said, but the young woman did not appear to believe him. She stalked over to the pair and smacked him hard upside the head. Laura was able to suppress a giggle, but couldn't resist the urge to smirk at the defeated teen.

"I apologize for his rude behavior. Hector often _forgets himself_." The girl grabbed Hector by his ear and dragged him out of the shop to presumably be scolded. The incident was enough of an incentive for the remaining two girls and they quickly settled on the pieces they wanted. They instructed their male companions to pay the jeweler. Laura quoted the merchandise at a much higher price than she would normally charge, but the boys handed over the gold without argument. They made a hasty retreat as the girls gushed over their new souvenirs.

Laura groaned when she looked around the shop. The group had left a mess in their wake and reorganizing could take her the rest of the day. She at least took comfort in the fact that the money she had just earned would no doubt pay off her recent expenditures. Laura stowed the gold in a leather pouch that hung at her side and dove into the task at hand. She had made a good start when she heard the bells above the entryway jingle and she looked up to see who it was. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of her smug guest.

"Marcel," she said in an icy tone as he tipped his cap to her. "I don't know why you're here, but I'm in no mood to deal with it. I've got to put my shop back together in time to make dinner and you're leaving slime all over the floor."

"Glad to see you too," the journalist said with a chuckle as he took the insult in stride. Laura was almost impressed with Marcel's unwavering ability to shrug off any offensive comment aimed at him, but in the end the trait just served to enhance his aggravating demeanor. Marcel spied Brutus perched on top of the counter and he made his way over to the cat. "Hey, puss." The journalist reached out to pet Brutus, but the white cat hissed and arched his spine in warning. Marcel's hand snapped back. "I see he still doesn't like me."

"Brutus knows a rat when he sees one." Laura turned away from him and began to sort through a pile of necklaces the girls had left tangled up on a table. "Now what do you want?"

"Can't a man say hello to a beautiful woman without an ulterior motive?" Marcel moved out of Brutus' reach and leaned back against the counter. Laura could see him in her peripheral vision, but did not grace him with her full attention.

"With you there's always an ulterior motive. The faster you spit out why you're here the faster I can get rid of you."

"You wound me, madam!" His face lit up with amusement. "If you insist on being your usual icy self then I'll cut right to the chase: I'm looking for some information."

"And what makes you think I have any to give?" Laura asked, though it was easy to discern why Marcel was here. News traveled fast in small communities.

"There's no need to play coy, Laura. I can smell a scoop from leagues away, and my instinct is telling me that you're in the center of it." The jeweler did not need to look at Marcel. She could hear the damn smirk on his face.

"So you're chasing a story? Funny, I thought you were fired from that two-bit paper of yours."

"A temporary setback, I assure you." He dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. "A true reporter rolls with the punches and never stops in his pursuit of the truth. One paper may ignore said truth, but there are dozens more who will eat it up." His voice seeped with arrogance, but there was an undercurrent of sheer determination. Laura sighed and turned to face him, her hand on her hip.

"And what exactly do you think you'll find here?" she asked in an annoyed tone.

"Answers to a few pressing questions." He gave her a knowing look. "The word around town is that the young witch is staying with you." Laura raised an eyebrow at him.

"Where did you hear that?"

"I make it a habit to mill around the general store," he said. "A lot of rumors flow through that place. Jacob, for example, has been telling anyone with ears that Shanoa is back in Wygol. Abram was also jabbering about how he patched up her 'ugly wounds'." Laura decided it was futile to argue over the obvious truth.

"Shanoa showed up at my door a few days ago and I've offered to let her stay with me while she recovers." Laura crossed her arms over her chest. "Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"Partly, but that's not what's piqued my interest." Marcel scratched his chin in an attempt to look thoughtful. "Strange, isn't it? That horrid castle rises up from the bowels of Hell itself and our lovely Shanoa is nowhere to be found. Two weeks later the castle crumbles and we're once again graced with her presence."

"I didn't notice any connection." Laura narrowed her eyes at him in a silent challenge. She would not give up any information without a fight. Marcel's smirk managed to somehow grow even cockier.

"Sure, and I bet you know nothing about the part she's played in all of this." The journalist leaned forward and matched Laura's intimidating glare. "I _know_ there's something big going on here, and all signs point back to Shanoa. It'll make things much easier for everyone if you just tell me what I want to know."

"So, after you weasel your way into my home and milk the poor girl for information, how do you plan to sell this story? What makes you think that people will believe it?" She scoffed and shook her head. "Most people have never even seen a monster let alone an inter-dimensional castle." Marcel glowered at her.

"Facts are facts, and the public has the right to know the truth-"

"Save your bullshit for someone else because I'm not buying it."

"God damn it, Laura! I am not going to spend the rest of my life writing about urban legends!" Marcel banged his fist against the countertop, but Laura did not flinch at the loud noise. "Such trite subjects may have sold in a grimy sports magazine, but I have the opportunity to write a career making story here: an exposé on a legitimate force of evil in the Carpathians. I've at least earned the right to know what was in that castle! I deserve to know what manner of creature threatened my life!"

"Is that what it comes down to: your own personal safety?" Laura's eyebrows drew together. Marcel stiffened at her accusation.

"You're twisting my words," he said in an even tone.

"Am I? I have yet to see you show any compassion towards others, but now you have an opportunity to prove me wrong. If you care about the affected parties then you'll leave this matter alone."

"Why should I?"

"We owe Shanoa that much! While we were curled up in our homes she stormed that castle and fought to save our lives!" Laura's tone left little room for a counter-argument.

"Then she should be grateful for the recognition I can offer her." She saw the journalist's resolve chip away as he spoke. "If she tells me her story then I can ensure that humanity will know of her struggle."

"She doesn't want humanity to know," she said with finality. "That woman is the reason why darkness did not envelope the world, and if you have any shred of honor or respect then you won't pursue this." Fury flashed across Marcel's face for a moment, but he didn't argue the matter. He stormed over to the door as if to leave, but he paused when he reached the entrance. The journalist exhaled, his shoulders relaxed, and he buried his clenched hands in his jacket pockets. Once he had his temper under control Marcel turned to face Laura.

"Do you know what it was; the entity in that castle?" he asked in a steady voice. Laura tensed and looked away.

"Yes…"

"Will you tell me if I swear to keep it a secret?" His proposal piqued the jeweler's curiosity. It was the first time that Marcel had made such an offer.

"What will you swear by?" She looked at him again and noted that his usual resolve had returned.

"I swear on the blood of my fathers that I will not utter a word of this to anyone," he said. Laura was surprised by the sincerity in his voice. She almost trusted him to stay true to his word. She sighed in defeat. What it all came down to was a single name. It was a name that carried great weight, but who outside the village would believe him? The rest of the world subscribed to the idea that the Belmont clan was either a myth or had vanished from the Earth, and the mere suggestion that Dracula had been defeated without the use of the Vampire Killer was laughable at best.

"It was Dracula," she whispered. Marcel's eyes widened before he caught his shocked expression and reassumed his mask of false indifference. He nodded and exited the shop without another word. Laura could not help the flutter of nervousness that flared in her stomach as she watched him go.

_Don't make me regret this._

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> most of the alterations in this chapter were structural and include the same grammatical edits as in previous chapters.

The content of this chapter didn't need much adjustment beyond tweaks to character representation. Marcel, however, is still an ass.

I want to point out something that appears to have caused a misconception with a few readers in the past: Laura's Romani heritage is entirely of my own design. Her official bio is brief and does not mention her ethnicity. The idea came to me when I was developing her backstory, and while it's since become an important part of Laura's identity in this story it is not actually canon.


	4. Heart of the Matter

Chapter Four

_Heart of the Matter_

Laura seemed almost giddy as she counted the gold she'd earned the previous day for the umpteenth time. Shanoa stood a few feet away and watched the jeweler. Her arms fidgeted at her sides as she tried to combat the awkward feeling that took hold of her as she waited for Laura to finish.

"You don't really need to bring me along, do you? I could just stay here and read again," Shanoa said as her hands fiddled with the loose fabric on the front of her dress. The morning had consisted of a quick breakfast followed by a wardrobe change at Laura's insistence. The jeweler explained that they were going to run some errands and she thought that an outfit that concealed Shanoa's bandages would be more prudent. The dress Laura had chosen had long sleeves that covered the length of the warrior's arms, but the fabric was a bright color in contrast to the usual darker shades that Shanoa preferred.

"You have to come along. This expedition would be pointless without you." Laura gave her a beaming smile. "Besides, it'll be good for you to get out of the house and socialize."

"Socialize… right." Shanoa could not hide the dread in her voice.

"No one is going to bite you," Laura said with a chuckle, but paused when she saw Shanoa chew on her bottom lip. "You're acting way too jittery. Did something happen yesterday while I was in the shop?"

"It wasn't anything bad, just… Anna stopped by, and she told me something strange."

"Oh?" Laura tilted her head to one side. Her expression turned contemplative as she listened to Shanoa recount the conversation for her. "That girl has such a powerful natural attunement to magical planes. It's no wonder she gets possessed so easily."

"That's not what has me frightened, though."

"What do you mean?"

"As Anna bounded away she said." The warrior hesitated a moment. "Before I went into the castle she thought my face 'wasn't kind', but now she thinks that it is." Shanoa's fingers twisted the material of the dress as she felt the echo of that internal crack. "Something happened when she said that. Something chipped away inside me, and I can't figure out what it was." She looked up at Laura with uncertain eyes. "What if it happens again? I- I'm actually afraid of these people. It's so ridiculous, but I'm terrified of their gratitude. I can't pretend to be glad to hear it, because all it does is make me remember what I've been, what I've lost along the way, and all I want to do is forget." Laura moved to speak, but halted when Shanoa held up her hand. A harsh tremor ran through her body and the warrior braced her hand against the wall to keep herself upright.

"I want to forget, but I can't ignore it, can I? I could run to the ends of the Earth and it'd follow at my heels. So much happened inside that castle, Laura. Most of it is a blur – a haze of Glyphs and demonic gore – but the moments that mattered are seared inside my mind. It's funny, it's so hard to remember who I was before my mission, but I know it's not the person that these people are grateful to. They've only known a lie, and even now I wonder just what am I?" The warrior raised her shaking hands and looked down at her open palms. "Who is _this_ Shanoa?"

"That's something you get to decide for yourself," Laura said in a steady voice. Shanoa gave her an incredulous look.

"How can one 'decide' what they are?" Everyone in Ecclesia – including her and Albus – had followed a given role as dictated by their elders. She was ordained as Ecclesia's Blade, but she had no say in the matter.

"A person's identity is reflected in the choices you make and the kind of life you lead," the jeweler said. "Both of those are within your power to decide. Why did you choose to go into that castle?"

"I didn't have a choice. If I had walked away at that moment then I would have doomed all of humanity." Shanoa's jaw set with rigid determination. "I couldn't do that even if I wanted to."

"Why not?" Something swirled behind Laura's eyes as the question made Shanoa pause.

"Because I am not Barlowe, at least that much is clear," she said after a moment. "I can't abide the extermination of innocent life, especially when it's within my power to prevent it." The warrior looked away with a sigh. "Though it feels more like an obligation than a choice."

"An obligation to whom: God, the world, Albus, or perhaps yourself?"

"I have an obligation to those that I have the means to protect." Shanoa's eyebrows knit together. "Perhaps that's why I helped the villagers, but an obligation is born out of a sense of duty. That trait was drilled into me. Adhering to duty is not a choice I make anymore. It's simply part of my nature."

"That may be, but duty requires something to be faithful to; an oath or a personal code, for example," the jeweler said. "Duty may be inherent in your personality, but it does not deprive you of the ability to choose what cause to which you devote said duty." Shanoa's eyes flicked back to her friend and she saw a small smile creep into the jeweler's expression.

"I've always tried to protect others…" Shanoa felt herself losing the debate, but she was not sure that was something to mourn.

"Has that left you wanting?"

"What do you mean?"

"Before that mess of a ritual, before you 'lost' your emotions, did you strive to protect others?" Shanoa's eyes widened as a memory flashed in her mind. The sight of Albus as he heaved crystallized blood onto the floor.

"_You can't keep doing this! You'll destroy yourself! You can find other ways to become stronger. Let me be the one to bear Glyphs; that's my role."_

"Yes, especially those I care about," the warrior whispered.

"Did anyone force you to protect them?" Shanoa was taken aback by the question.

"No! I…" The objection died on her lips. For a fleeting moment she grasped clarity. The walls of doubt and grief receded and Shanoa saw the true essence of her heart, but it was too much to bear. She cringed and buried her face in her hands in an effort to block it out of her mind. "Not yet! Not yet, not yet, not yet…" Shanoa bade the walls to return. They were the only ramparts that stood between her and utter ruin.

"What's wrong?" She heard Laura's concerned voice.

"I can't face myself. Not yet… not after what I've done…" Shanoa managed to choke out the words. The floorboards creaked under the force of movement and she was pulled into a firm embrace. Shanoa's body tensed at the sudden contact. She was not accustomed to physical displays of affection, but there was an undeniable comfort in being held.

"You won't have to face it alone," Laura said. "And you won't have to talk to the villagers all on your own either. I'll be right beside you the whole time, and if it becomes too much then just say the word." Shanoa was surprised by the sincerity in Laura's voice.

_She means it._

"Then I'll go."

IXI

"Monica?" Shanoa made a pained sound as they stood in the street outside the seamstress' home. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What's so bad about Monica?" Laura gave her a questioning look.

"She's just so... _negative_." The warrior frowned.

"The poor girl does tend to be overly hard on herself. She has been the entire time I've known her, which admittedly isn't very long, but it seems to be an ingrained habit," Laura said with a slight nod. The affirmation did nothing to quell Shanoa's concern.

"I can hardly face my own trifles, let alone listen to her-"

"However." The jeweler gave Shanoa an encouraging smile. "I think you'll be surprised by recent developments." Laura strode up the walkway to the front door before the younger woman could voice any further complaint. Shanoa groaned in defeat as she hurried to catch up to her friend. The jeweler only had to knock once before the door swung inward to reveal the timid seamstress. "That was fast." Monica blushed in response to Laura's teasing remark.

"Well I've been… I didn't know when you'd stop by and I wanted to be ready when you did. It didn't take me very long to-!" Monica squeaked as Shanoa poked her head out from behind Laura.

"I brought Shanoa with me," the jeweler said. "I figured it would be nice to see the finished product on a live model. It should also tell us if any adjustments need to be made."

"Oh, I- well, it should fit fine. I mean, I've made dresses for her before. By now I should know her measurements, but I could be wrong- oh, I shouldn't say that!" Monica winced. "It's so easy for me to scold myself. You should come in before I say something silly." The seamstress moved to the side to make enough space for her guests to pass through. She closed the door behind them once the pair was inside.

Monica had converted the front room of her small home into a workshop in order to make up for the fact that she did not have a store of her own. Shanoa gawked as she looked about the room; the once familiar empty space had been overtaken by a sea of vibrant fabrics. Rolls upon rolls of various materials dyed in a wide spectrum of colors had been arranged into piles of similar hues. The piles took up almost every inch of available floor space, but Monica had put some manner of order to the chaos. A path cut through the fabric stocks to the right side of the room where two mannequins, a table, and a sewing machine stood in the middle of a clearing. A line of finished dresses hung from a beam that spanned the length of the wall.

"Where did all this fabric come from?" Shanoa marveled at the vast assortment. Monica blushed once again, and Shanoa wondered if there was anything that didn't make the seamstress turn red.

"Well, I…" Monica looked away and chewed her bottom lip.

"You should tell her. After all, you did say that Shanoa was your 'inspiration'," Laura said with a wink. Shanoa's brow furrowed at the comment. _How did I inspire her?_

"I… met someone. I guess you could call him my business partner." Monica's face turned an even deeper shade of red.

"And he supplies you with fabric." Shanoa stated rather than asked. "Though I don't see what that has to do with me."

"Oh, it has everything to do with you!" The words burst out of Monica's mouth in a flurry. The seamstress cringed at her abrasiveness and cleared her throat before she continued. "After I made those cashmere dresses I was… upset. All I could think about was how I just sat here in my house and waited for you to bring me the fabric I needed. I didn't even try to help you find them; I just moped about until you showed up with the materials. I wouldn't have been able to create anything without your help. So I made a decision." Monica's eyes hardened with a resolve that shocked the warrior. "I… I want to be more like you, Shanoa. I don't want to have to rely on other people to do things for me. So I made a vow to find a way to get my own materials.

"A few merchants travel through Wygol as part of their trade route. I figured that the best way for me to get a steady supply of fabric was to arrange something with a merchant, but I was too afraid to approach any of them, as per usual." The seamstress frowned. "They're all such big, burly men, but I guess that isn't surprising since we're pretty deep in the Carpathians and you'd have to cut an imposing figure to safely… oh, and there I go babbling again." Monica shook her head with a slight smile. "What I'm trying to say is that I _did_ manage to work up the courage to talk to one of them. He's only a few years older than I am, though he's not quite as humongous as the other merchants. I was still scared to talk to him at first, but I just reminded myself of my dream. I thought of how wonderful it would be to become independent – to stand on my own two feet – and I realized that I couldn't achieve any of that without taking some chances. So, I talked to him." Monica's blush threatened to spread across her entire body and she glanced abashedly down at her feet. Shanoa gave Laura a questioning look, but the jeweler only responded with a broad smile.

"I talked to him." Monica's voice held an air of continued disbelief at her accomplishment. She stared at the floor for a few moments before she popped back up with a huge grin plastered across her face. "That's right! I talked to him! Timid little Monica was able to talk to a man and it didn't end up being a catastrophe! I asked him – oh, his name is Timothy. I forgot to mention that. Anyway, I asked Timothy if he would be interested in helping me start a business. I showed him the dresses that I made for you, Shanoa, and he loved them. He actually thought they were gorgeous! He thinks that one day, after I make a name for myself, I could be making dresses for royalty. So Timothy agreed to help me by supplying the materials I need and then selling my finished dresses in the towns he visits along his trade route." Monica looked as if she was about to burst from her excitement and she made a sweeping gesture with her arms. "Now look at me! I've got all of this, and I've already sewn a number of dresses and it's… it's happening. It's _really_ happening!"

Shanoa stared wide-eyed at the girl who – she realized – had undergone a metamorphosis. Monica, who kept herself locked up in a cage of self-doubt, had begun to emerge out of her shell.

_Is this because of me? I only brought her materials because she could put what I would otherwise discard to good use, but it was so much more to her. It was so much more than I ever comprehended. _

She felt another crack in the dam that kept her emotions at bay as she was forced to face an undeniable truth.

_It's such a small thing; a tiny gesture, but it cultivated something enormous. There are so many little things that I never realized meant so much._

"Are you all right?" Shanoa felt a hand grip hers and she pulled herself out of the potentially dangerous line of thought. Laura and Monica looked at her with concern and the warrior wondered how much of her emotional turmoil had just played out in her expression. She looked down and noticed that it was Laura's hand entwined with her own; a fact that did not surprise her.

"For now." Shanoa nodded, but did not offer more of an explanation. Instead she tried to turn the conversation away from her personal woes. "You did bring me here for a specific purpose, right? You referenced a 'live model'. I assume you were talking about me?"

"Yes!" Monica clasped her hands together and bounded through the sea of fabric to the row of hanging dresses. She skimmed to the end of the line and removed a dress from its hanger. As the seamstress made her way back to her guests Shanoa's breath caught in her throat when she recognized the garment in Monica's hands.

"It's my dress," she said in disbelief. "You repaired it."

"Well." Monica frowned. "I didn't exactly… um…"

"The original dress was damaged beyond the point where it could be salvaged," Laura said. "I knew right away that it was a hopeless case, but you wore that dress so often it might as well have been grafted onto your skin. It's obviously important to you, and I didn't want to just throw it away. So I brought the dress to Monica and asked if she could make you a duplicate."

"I know it's not the same," Monica said once she regained her ability to form a coherent sentence. "But I did sew a few pieces of the original dress into this one. So, in a way, well… you'll still carry it with you." Shanoa reached out and touched the deep blue fabric of the familiar dress. She had forgotten to ask Laura what she had done with it, but the warrior never expected something like this.

"Thank you, both of you." Shanoa's voice wavered a bit with overwhelming gratitude.

"Now we need to make sure it fits properly." Monica handed Shanoa the dress and began rummaging through the clutter. "I _know_ I have a stool here somewhere…"

"You can change in the next room," Laura said before she went to help in the search.

By the time Shanoa had switched outfits the dressmaker had found the wooden stool and cleared a large enough space in the center of the room for the trio to move about in. The warrior stood on top of the stool as Monica made a thorough inspection of her creation. Despite her recent advances in the social arena the girl was as picky as ever when it came to her craft and Shanoa's mind wandered as the inspection dragged on.

For some hitherto unknown reason she had been compelled to wear the dress throughout her mission. Though she had lost her memories Shanoa didn't take it off unless she had to. Instinct had dictated her actions in the past, but now recollection flowed back to her. Albus had given her the dress. It was the last birthday present she would ever receive from him.

"_There's no back to it!" Shanoa gawked as she held up the offending garment. "How am I supposed to go out in public dressed like this?"_

"_It's not meant to be suggestive." Albus pointed an accusing finger at his sister when she frowned at him. "And stop making that face! The dress is tailored that way for legitimate combative purposes."_

"_Combat? You expect me to wear this during combat?" She gave him an incredulous look. "How is this flimsy thing supposed to protect me in a fight?"_

"_Well you'd wear some armor over it, but that's not what I'm getting at." Albus indicated to the tattoos on Shanoa's upper arms. "You absorb and summon Glyphs through the tattoos on your skin. I had this dress designed with that in mind. I've seen what happens when you train with heavy clothing or armor; it takes you longer to summon a Glyph. This dress could eliminate that problem because there isn't any material that could get between the tattoos and where the Glyph materializes." Shanoa glowered at his reasoning. He had a valid point, but she was not inclined to wear something so revealing._

"_I still have my doubts."_

"_Then I'll make a bet with you," Albus said with a sly grin. "How about you go out and test my theory the next time you train? If I'm right then you have to wear the dress on every mission you're assigned to for at least a year."_

"_And what will happen if it doesn't work?" she asked. Albus paused for a moment as he mulled over the possibilities. _

"_Then I'll wear the dress."_

_Shanoa matched her brother's mischievous expression._

"_You're on!"_

"Just as I thought, I know your measurements by heart!" Monica's voice pulled Shanoa out of the memory. "You can step down now. I don't need to make any changes." The warrior hopped off the pedestal and stared down at herself as Laura paid the seamstress. The dress looked identical to original. Shanoa ran her fingers over the bow that tied above her collarbone; it _felt_ just like the original. "So, what do you think?" Monica asked as Shanoa marveled at the garment. The warrior paused when she caught a glimpse of a dark mark on the edge of one of the ties that formed the bow. She held it up to get a closer look and her stomach flipped as she realized it was the faint remains of a blood stain.

_Pieces of the original dress sewn in, just like she said._

"It's perfect."

IXI

A large bell clanged overhead as they entered the sweltering heat of the smithy. Shanoa was grateful for the loose covering of her signature dress as it helped to stave off the effects of the increased temperature. Laura, on the other hand, staggered against the wave of intense heat, but she attempted to pretend that the change didn't bother her to the extent that it clearly did. The jeweler slipped her standard ribbon out of its decorative placement in her hair and used it to tie her curls back in a ponytail.

"I always forget just how hot it is in here," Laura said with a grimace.

"Well it _is_ a forge." The jeweler rolled her eyes at Shanoa's reminder, but the grin that formed on her face did not indicate annoyance.

"I make it a point to avoid spending time in stuffy environments. This heat wreaks havoc on my hair." Laura ran her fingers through her long curls as she made a quick assessment of its current state.

"What do you do if you need metalwork done for a piece of jewelry?"

"I usually work with metal that can easily be manipulated with tools, but if I need something that requires the use of a forge I discuss the matter with Eugen in the adjoined shop. Then I pick up the finished product at a later date. I don't ever have to step foot in here." Their conversation was cut short by the loud clash of metal striking against metal.

"We can talk business or you can let me get back to work." Eugen's gruff voice carried above the din made by his hammer. The blacksmith was hunched over his anvil on the other side of the smithy. His back was to the pair and he gave no indication that he had recognized their voices, though he may have only heard the clang of the bell. Shanoa had noticed during her previous visits that the aging blacksmith was partially deaf from years of working a raucous trade.

"It's Laura!" the jeweler shouted. "I'm here to pick up my order!" Eugen grunted and placed his hammer down on a ledge beside him. He wiped the back of his hand across his brow as he rose up to his full, impressive height. Eugen was well over six feet tall and towered above everyone in the small village.

"Did you bring someone else with you?" he asked with his back still to them.

"Yes." Shanoa responded before Laura could. The blacksmith turned around and studied the young woman with a strange look in his eyes. She gulped as a nervous knot formed in her stomach, but she could not determine why the look set her on edge. After a moment Eugen nodded and wiped his hands on the dirty apron that was tied around his waist.

"I put it in the shop. I know Laura doesn't like to spend her time around a blazing forge," he said and motioned towards a door on the right wall. The two women followed his lead and Laura sighed in relief as they exited the blistering heat and entered into the comparatively cool air of the adjoined shop.

Eugen's shop was an undisputable mess. A vast array of armor, tools, and weapons hung from hooks on the walls or were propped up on benches in a haphazard display. In stark contrast to Monica's workspace there was no order to the chaos, but Eugen navigated through the mess with a surprising familiarity. He seemed to know where every piece of merchandise was located. Shanoa concluded that, in some way, the disorganization made complete sense to the blacksmith. He stopped next to a bench that held a number of paper-wrapped items. Eugen moved various packages aside before he emerged with the piece he wanted. The blacksmith remained silent as he carried the package over to a table placed in the center of the room and the two women joined him beside the makeshift counter.

"I didn't realize the full extent of the damage when you brought the armor in. That being the case I'm going to have to charge you a bit more than I originally quoted." Eugen glanced down at the leather pouch that was slung at Laura's side. "I doubt what you have in there will cover it. It would be best if you went back home and got some more gold." The jeweler's eyes narrowed and she opened her mouth to object, but something in Eugen's gaze made her pause. The irritation melted from Laura's face and she nodded before she turned to comply with Eugen's suggestion. The warrior stared after her friend in confusion as she exited the shop.

_What just happ-?_

Shanoa cried out as Eugen slapped her upside the head. The blow wasn't hard enough to cause any pain, but the action startled her. She whirled around to face the blacksmith whose expression – she noted with annoyance – was as stoic as ever.

"What the hell was that for?" Shanoa asked as she rubbed the back of her head.

"I know what you were trying to do," he said in a scolding voice. Her brow furrowed at his cryptic response.

"I have no idea what-"

"Armor does not lie, Shanoa." The warrior was caught off guard when Eugen addressed her by name. He had never made a point to use it before. His eyes bore into her as she gaped at him. "You gave up." Shanoa's blood ran cold when she realized what he had referred to.

"… I…" She could only manage the singular word before concluding that any objection would be pointless and without merit. Shanoa frowned, but did not look away.

"You told me that you had 'no intention of dying'. You told me that in what I perceived at the time to be unwavering confidence, and yet you did not uphold that promise." Eugen ripped open the package and revealed the familiar armor that Shanoa had worn as she carved her way through Dracula's castle.

The blacksmith had made no attempt to repair the gnarled metal and a needling pain pierced Shanoa's gut as she realized the full extent of the damage it had incurred. By all rights she should be dead. The surface of the breastplate was twisted and scarred and it was only through the sheer integrity of the craftsmanship that she had survived the blows that were etched into the armor. Shanoa ran a shaking hand across the surface of the plate and hissed as she sliced open her index finger against a sharp piece of protruded metal.

"You're lucky that you only have those bandages to contend with." Eugen pointed to the cloth that encased both of her arms. "And you're damn lucky that you were wearing my armor." She winced as his words cut into her.

"Maybe I'm not so lucky…" she whispered as her grief managed to seep through her defenses. Eugen slapped her upside the head again; harder this time.

"No, you're lucky _and_ blind. I thought that by now someone would have gotten even a sliver of sense through your thick skull, but you're still so goddamn blind. I may be a gruff old man, but even I can see what's happened to this village in recent months." His tone remained even, but he could not hide the emotion that rose up behind his eyes. "I've lived in Wygol since Father Nikolai first conceived the idea of a haven in the wilderness. I helped build every home and shop. I was here when every wandering soul stumbled into this village. I've shared my sweat with them, shared meals with them, fought with them, and forged a community with them. Yet up until six months ago this place was nothing but a gathering of broken spirits. For years we have lacked purpose; lacked someone who could tap into our potential and bring out the best in us. You found us imprisoned, in more ways than one, but you reached out to save us." Eugen's voice faltered slightly and he paused a moment to regain his composure.

"Everyone in this village has changed because of you, but you refuse to see it." He pointed a finger towards the front door of his shop. "Do you think that Laura is just helping you for the hell of it? That she took you in because she's some kind of Good Samaritan? I've known her for three years now and that woman's heart has been locked away tighter than a wild animal in a cage. She let a piece of it out for Monica and those kids, but never the true breadth of it. No, you're the only one who has managed to break through her defenses. Whatever you did, whatever you said, it changed her. It brought the real Laura out of hiding."

If anyone else had told her this Shanoa wouldn't have believed them. She would have scoffed at the notion of an introverted Laura, but this was Eugen. This man would not lie to her. Shanoa opened her mouth to speak, to say that she hadn't realized, but the words failed to form on her tongue. The blacksmith appeared to understand her in spite of Shanoa's silence.

"Ignorance is no excuse for what you did. You went into that castle with the blatant intent to throw your life away. You went back on your word, Shanoa. You fought without heart and without purpose. I craft armor for warriors, not suicidal children." He lifted the breastplate and held it between them. "So I'm not going to repair this armor for you, and I won't sell you another set. However, I will not discard it. I'm going to keep it with me, because while I know many ways to repair metal I know nothing of repairing souls. That subject is beyond my understanding. So I will leave that task up to those better equipped to handle such delicate material, and in the meantime I will wait. No matter how long it takes, I will wait until you have regained a purpose worthy of fighting for. Only then will I repair this armor, and when I do it will be but a shadow of its former self. I will craft the strongest metal in all of Europe, but not until you are able to wear my creation with the honor it deserves."

"Eugen…" Shanoa trembled with restrained emotion. Tears threatened to escape the corners of her eyes, but she somehow managed to hold them back. "I promise-" He cut her off with a shake of his head.

"I am a man who lets his actions speak for him. Let your actions do the same," he said. Shanoa's bottom lip quivered, but she nodded. Eugen grunted and started to re-wrap the armor in the crinkled brown paper. "Laura should be waiting for you outside. Tell her that she doesn't owe me anything."

Shanoa acted before she could catch herself. She lurched forward and embraced the blacksmith. It wasn't until Eugen stiffened against the unexpected contact that she realized what she had done, but she remained where she was. The blacksmith let her lean against him for a few moments before he cleared his throat and she backed away. Shanoa looked up at him, but he didn't meet her gaze. Eugen hesitated for a moment and then, slowly, reached out and patted her on the head. Before Shanoa could comment on the action he turned away, package in hand, and retreated back into his forge. The warrior stared after him for a moment, unsure of what she should do, before she decided it was best to reconvene with Laura.

The jeweler had waited just outside the smithy and looked up as Shanoa exited the shop. The warrior paused as she let the door swing shut behind her and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply and her lungs were filled with the prickling sensation of cool air as it swirled into the warmth of her chest. After a few moments her eyelids fluttered open and Shanoa turned to face her friend.

"Eugen wanted me to tell you that you don't owe him any payment," she said. Shanoa had expected to see confusion in Laura's expression, but instead she saw quiet understanding.

"I see," Laura said with a nod.

"He also told me…" Shanoa paused as she recalled how Eugen had formulated an excuse to ensure that the two of them spoke in private. Laura seemed to sense her dilemma.

"Eugen can see a person's strength, and sometimes he knows what a person needs to hear. I don't know what he said to you, but those words were meant for you and you alone." Laura gave her a warm smile. Another crack echoed in Shanoa's chest as she looked at her friend. There was genuine care in her expression, and something else; something deeper that she did not have the emotional understanding to identify.

_But why does she care?_

Laura had always gone out of her way to try and break through Shanoa's barriers, but what Eugen had just revealed…

"…_that woman's heart has been locked away tighter than a wild animal in a cage."_

_Laura, what do you see in me that's worth saving?_

IXI

Another feral roar tore loose from the chamber. The sound was accompanied by the crash of splintering wood as the woman continued to rampage throughout the fortress. Most of the west wing had been torn asunder in her guttural rage and sparks of residual Dark magic crackled and snapped in the air from the repeated incantation of Globus. She stood poised in the midst of the carnage. Bolts of deep purple energy flickered from her fingertips and cast an eerie glow upon the pallid skin that produced them. A small stream of blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth as she ground her teeth together in protest. She had used up too much of her mana too fast and she cursed her shaking body's need to recover.

"That bitch!" Crimson saliva flew out of her mouth with each word. The harsh syllables echoed off the walls of the chamber. "It was impossible! And now all of this is worthless; right down to the last fucking buttress!" She hurled two more globes of Dark fury. The spheres crashed into the bare marble of the wall and the stone cracked under the destructive force. They continued to ricochet about the room. The globes left their mark upon every surface they touched, but not once did the spheres return to strike the woman who first summoned them.

A series of violent coughs racked her lean frame and she fell to her knees as her diaphragm convulsed against her will. White spittle and blood speckled the floor beneath her as she retched. After considerable effort she was able to regain her composure and she sat back as the tremors receded.

"This is no good… I have a mission. It's too important to be compromised by a personal vendetta." The woman rose to her feet; her legs shook in protest, but did not buckle. There would be a proper time and place for her anger, but this was neither.

She moved to the large window that overlooked the expansive wilderness that lay beyond the stone walls. It was faint, but she could feel the pulse of the tether that connected her to her target. So long as the bond remained intact she would know exactly where the target was at all times, but this hunt required more finesse. She placed a pale hand against the glass and exhaled. The effectiveness of her eventual judgment relied on multiple factors. If she acted prematurely the end result would be insufficient given her target's crimes. She needed the means to observe without the threat of sudden emotional influxes.

The woman reached up and palmed the ring that hung from a chain around her neck. It had been entrusted to her should a situation such as this arise. She yanked the chain free and heard the faint clink as the broken links fell to the tiled floor. She held up the ring and studied it. The black metal had been fashioned into the shape of an ouroboros, though she failed to make the connection between the snake and the ring's nature. It had not been fed for years, but the ring still glowed with a faint crimson aura.

She steeled herself as she raised the ring to the appropriately named finger on her right hand. It was an effective tool, but she knew firsthand the price that the ring demanded in return for its use. She shook herself free of the memories and slipped the ouroboros onto the appendage.

A faint cry echoed in the room as a ring of spikes emerged from the snake's belly and pierced her flesh. She closed her eyes as the crimson aura flowed directly into her veins. The red glow illuminated the twisting passages beneath her skin. The aura pulsed as it traveled up her arm, across her chest, and then twisted around her heart at the apex of its voyage. Crimson light pumped in tandem with the muscle for a few quick beats before the light was pulled back into the ring that produced it.

The woman opened her eyes as the aura faded from within her. The moonlight played over the purple hue of her irises, but the fury that had raged there not a minute before had vanished. Now there was nothing in her eyes.

She was ready.

Her senses cleared as the apathy took hold of her heart. The ring would feast on her emotions, but she remained hungry for her prey. When the time was right she would give the ouroboros its payment and in turn feast upon a defeated soul.

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> there weren't many alterations in this chapter either. I was always pleased with Eugen's lecture and Monica's character growth. The biggest change was made to the opening conversation between Shanoa and Laura. I lengthened it to explore Shanoa's sense of duty and personal identity. I also had Laura challenge her whereas the jeweler didn't push in the original draft.

I also changed the mystery woman's Lightning Glyph to a Darkness Glyph to maintain continuity.


	5. Storm of Sorrow

**Author's note:** as a general rule I try to avoid referencing songs in my chapter titles, but sometimes a song fits so well that I decide to make an exception.

* * *

><p>Chapter Five<p>

_Storm of Sorrow_

She was loath to admit it, but _Beowulf_ had lost its appeal. The text on the page jumbled into an incoherent mess as Shanoa stared unblinking at the open book. Her sudden lack of interest made no sense. She had read up to the battle between Beowulf and the nameless creature only referred to as Grendel's mother. Man and monster had clashed, the Scandinavian discovered that his sword Hrunting was unable to harm the creature, and then Shanoa's mind had severed itself from the story. She had forced herself to read through Beowulf's discovery of the golden sword, but at that point her soul had given up. The poem didn't call to her anymore.

She returned the book to its hiding place beneath the pillow and rested her head back against the wall. Shanoa's gaze turned towards the windows where the first rays of sunlight had begun to filter through the curtains. The warrior had woken up well before dawn. Her sleep, though it still lacked the company of dreams, had been fitful. At last she had given up on attaining any semblance of restful slumber and so she had resumed _Beowulf_ by lamplight in the pre-dawn darkness. It had kept her mind occupied while it lasted, but snippets of memories from the previous day demanded the warrior's attention.

"_Now look at me! I've got all of this, and I've already sewn a number of dresses and it's… it's happening. It's really happening!"_

_So many little things that intertwine to form something…_

"_I know it's not the same," Monica said once she regained her ability to form a coherent sentence. "But I did sew a few pieces of the original dress into this one. So, in a way, well… you'll still carry it with you."_

… _Huge and powerful, but I…_

"_Yet up until six months ago this place was nothing but a gathering of broken spirits. For years we have lacked purpose; lacked someone who could tap into our potential and bring out the best in us. You found us imprisoned, in more ways than one, but you reached out to save us."_

_I never realized how much it meant._

"_Ignorance is no excuse for what you did. You went into that castle with the blatant intent to throw your life away. You went back on your word; you fought without heart and without purpose."_

_And I was so close to betraying all of them-_

She bolted out of bed before that thought could dare to proceed any further. The thin nightgown she wore was too revealing on its own so she grabbed a familiar robe from the wardrobe and threw it on as she hurried down the stairs to the first floor. Laura slept on the couch while Shanoa occupied her bed and the warrior somehow managed to stay quiet enough to not wake her friend. Brutus was curled against Laura's head and he looked up as Shanoa slid out the back door. The warrior shrugged off the nip in the early morning air and began to walk.

Shanoa had no particular destination in mind; all she knew was that she needed to clear her head. If she continued to move then perhaps her thoughts wouldn't have the chance to congeal around her. A brief vision flashed in her mind as if to mock that wish: the street cracked open as molten Hellfire spewed through the gaps in the cobblestones. The warrior halted in abject terror at the mental image, but an unexpected voice banished the scene back into the recesses of her awareness.

"I thought I'd find you here. These old bones of mine hated to leave the comfort of my rocking chair, but I wanted to meet you halfway." Shanoa looked up and saw Daniela shuffle towards her. The morning fog seemed to part for the old woman. Her wooden cane clacked against the cobblestones as she approached with her usual soft smile. "Sometimes it's those small bits of kindness that a person needs the most."

"Daniela." Shanoa was surprised by the calm that flowed through her as she spoke the name. "I… I didn't expect to see you or anyone else up and about this early." The elderly woman chuckled as she reached the warrior.

"I'm old, dear; I rise and set with the Sun. At first I did not enjoy the loss of control over when I'm asleep or awake, but it's a habit that I've grown to be thankful for. When you reach a certain age finding solace in what's left of your life is important. My body wakes me up in time to see the beautiful dawn each morning. I get to breathe in the essence of this village in its most serene hours, but I have a feeling that my reasons for enjoying these quiet streets are not at all the same as yours."

"I…" Shanoa hesitated to speak. She did not want to recount the reasons why she had fled into the streets of Wygol. Daniela continued to smile up at her.

"An explanation is not always required for one friend to offer support to another. I was never particular towards conversation. I preferred to use my fighting prowess over my tongue, and now with my unreliable memory I'm even better suited to play the role of a quiet companion." A gust of wind rolled past them and Daniela drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "Good heavens, there's no doubt about it now. Autumn is certainly upon us. Would you be so kind as to escort me back to my house, Shanoa? My body is often quick to protest any exposure to cold weather."

"Oh, yes, of course." The warrior extended her arm to the old woman who gripped it with a surprisingly sturdy hand.

"I left some tea to brew on the stove," Daniela said as they began to walk at a slow pace. "It'll be just the thing to warm us up."

Daniela remained true to her word and offered a quiet presence. Shanoa was grateful for the silence and lack of inquiry. It was not far to the old woman's tiny cottage and they reached it without another word said between them. Daniela climbed the steps that led up to her porch with unexpected ease and she let go of Shanoa's arm to unlock the front door. She smiled back at the warrior as she shuffled inside her small abode.

The interior of the cottage was only a single room, but it had been divided into three sections. To the right of the door was a bed that was all but buried beneath a pile of thick quilts and pillows. A few shelves had been nailed to the wall above the bed that held some books and trinkets that were set up on display. Across from the front door was a small kitchen that appeared to get its fair share of use. A brick fireplace was the defining feature of the wall to Shanoa's left and a large cushioned chair with an adjoined table had been placed in front of it. A small fire crackled behind the metal gate of the fireplace and the flames filled the cottage with comfortable warmth. Daniela was halfway across the room before Shanoa stepped over the threshold.

"Come on in, dear, and close the door." The old woman turned and beckoned to her guest. Shanoa started as she hurried to comply with her host's wishes. Daniela chuckled once again at the young woman's awkward eagerness. She walked towards a steaming kettle that was placed on top of a charcoal stove. "You'll have to drink your tea while standing. I apologize for my lack of a proper dining table. I usually eat my meals in the chair in front of the fireplace and I rarely entertain guests."

"It's all right," Shanoa said. "I've eaten in all sorts of unusual places out on the road, and you'd be hard pressed to find a dining table in the middle of the woods." The quip came as a surprise to the warrior. Daniela laughed at the joke, but a series of harsh coughs extinguished her sounds of delight. Shanoa rushed over to her and helped Daniela steady herself as the coughs waned. The old woman shook her head and gave Shanoa an apologetic smile.

"My, my, I must be more sensitive to the cold than usual today. It must have something to do with all the water in the air; my old bones can sense a storm hours before it arrives. Could you help me over to my chair?" Daniela motioned towards the plush armchair. "The spirit is willing, but the body is faltering." Shanoa did not hesitate to lend her aide and guided her friend in front of the fireplace. Once Daniela was settled into the cushioned chair Shanoa retrieved a quilt from the bed and wrapped it around the old woman. "Why thank you, dear. You're such an angel." For some reason the comment struck an uncomfortable chord in Shanoa, but she forced down the urge to turn away from Daniela's beaming face.

_Do not turn your back on this. She does not deserve any rejection from you._

"Do you want me to fetch you some of that tea?" Shanoa asked in an attempt to divert her attention away from the strange feeling.

"Yes, that sounds wonderful." Daniela patted the warrior's wrist with a wrinkled hand. Shanoa moved away from the old woman's side and walked over to the kitchen. She was surprised to find two ceramic cups set out on the counter next to the kettle.

_She did know._

The warrior looked back at Daniela in bewilderment. The old woman was an enigma; her outward appearance was fraught with frailty, but Shanoa had been trained to pick fighters out of a crowd. She sometimes glimpsed a formidable strength buried within that small frame. The old woman could be quite candid with details about her life, though the comments were rare and easily missed. Daniela had mentioned battles, dealings with monsters, and cavorting in "secret arts" in her youth. And then there was the matter of her "feelings", or rather, to be more accurate, "premonitions". Daniela presented herself as a forgetful recluse, but her keen insight into the world around her led Shanoa to believe that the old woman's memory was nothing less than pristine.

Perhaps Laura wasn't the only villager who knew of her Belmont heritage.

_Had you been younger would you have raised the Vampire Killer against Dracula? Would you have fought him in my place, Daniela?_ She mused over the question as she poured the tea from the kettle and carried the full cups over to the chair. Shanoa handed one to Daniela who took it with another unwavering smile.

"Careful, the tea is still hot," the warrior said as steam wafted up from the surface of the liquid. Daniela dismissed her concern with a slight wave of her hand and took a long sip from the cup.

"Hmm, that's just what I needed." Daniela sighed with contentment. "There is another reason I invited you here. I want to show you something." The old woman pointed her finger towards the wall above the fireplace. Shanoa's turned her head and her breath hitched at what she saw. "I framed the pictures you drew for me. Don't they look lovely?"

The three familiar drawings were hung up on proud display. Shanoa set her tea cup down on the table next to the chair and walked over to inspect the artwork. She reached out to touch them, and memories of battle flowed through her as her hand glided across the paper.

The sunset from atop the Lighthouse…

_Shanoa was in a slight predicament: Brachyura had trapped her inside the tower. She was able to avoid its claws with relative ease, but her Glyphs did little damage to the decapod's carapace shell. Escape was not an option; the only direction to go was up. Perhaps she could find a way to kill the creature once she reached the top._

The waterfall at Tristis Pass…

_She felt the Glyph's energy resonate from the top of the frozen waterfall high above her. It was difficult to get a solid foothold on the ice wall, but there was no other way to circumnavigate the obstacle. If she wished to proceed then she would have to eliminate the source of the unnatural ice. _

_Shanoa grimaced as the jagged surface of the ice cut into her palms. She had wrapped her hands in strips of cloth, but it could not stave off the numbing cold. She cursed Magnes' limited range and looked up to see if she was any closer to the next chunk of metal embedded in the cavern walls. It was near enough, she decided, and reached out towards the magnetic vein as she invoked the Glyph in frustration._

The church in Oblivion Ridge…

_She was a damn fool! She had felt the presence of Dominus and knew by now that where she found the Glyph she would also find Albus. It was an obvious trap, but in her haste to retrieve the Glyph she had fallen right into it. The crystalline enclosure that had held so many villagers prisoner now trapped Ecclesia's Blade in its grip. Albus smirked at her through the foggy glass as she struggled against her bonds._

"_Try to relax, Shanoa; no more interfering." The warrior was perplexed to hear his voice laden with pain and regret. It contradicted the egotistical triumph in his expression. "About those Dominus pieces, by the way… It's time to explain why I gave them to you. Though, I admit, it would be better to show you." Albus extended his hands towards the glowing sigil that hovered above their heads. She felt his intent as he called out to the Glyph and she squirmed in a vain attempt to stop him before he could begin the ritual. Torpor did not yield to her and all Shanoa could do was watch as Albus absorbed the final piece of Dominus. His execution was crude, but effective. When the last tendrils of the sigil absorbed into his flesh Albus' ability to maintain Torpor faltered. Shanoa fell forward as the crystal shattered, but she was too late._

"_Gyaaaaah! It's working..!" The purple-hued energy of Dominus pulsed beneath his skin. "I FEEL IT!" _

"_But Barlowe said you weren't able to bear Glyphs." Her brow knotted in confusion as she tried to determine how Albus had done the impossible. He was unable to absorb the first two pieces. How then could he now..? "Did you… You let me absorb the other two just to see how it's done! Just from that you managed to learn the ritual." Albus' wolfish grin grew to an unnatural size at her observation. Her stomach twisted at the grotesque sight._

"_Not quite. For years I've studied how you perform the ritual. I've managed to unlock its secret before, but each Glyph is different, and the price of failure is high. I had to be sure that I could succeed this time." Albus was wreathed in purple flames as he summoned the power of Dominus. "Ha! You see, I- URGH!" The flames vanished as Albus retched violently. He grabbed fistfuls of his hair as a string of guttural howls and moans tore loose from his throat. Shanoa froze at the harrowing sounds, and for the first time she felt a small flicker of fear. At last the screams ceased and Albus slumped forward, his body limp._

"_What's happening?" Her voice cracked as a new presence joined them in the room. The air seemed to grow cold in response._

"… _And now…" Albus' body remained limp as he whispered. "My wish will be… Shanoa, I-" His head snapped up and he looked at her with wild eyes. "Rrgh… What?! Th-this can't be!" He clawed at his head once again. His nails dug into the skin of his face and left his cheeks covered with deep red lines. "No… I've come too far… I will NOT be consumed!" Albus raised a shaking hand and pointed at the warrior. "We'll settle this later, Shanoa."_

"_Wait, Albus!" She dashed forward in an attempt to seize him, but it was too late. Albus had vanished; teleported to an unknown location. _

"That drawing is my favorite." The sound of Daniela's voice brought Shanoa back to the present moment. Her hand rested over the golden cross that stood at the head of the altar. "It tells me so many wonderful things about you."

"What do you mean?" the warrior asked, perplexed by her statement.

"A work of art – regardless of the medium – offers a glimpse into the soul of the person who created it. One drawing can say so much about an artist, but you have spoiled me with three of them." Daniela chuckled. "Tell me, do you see a pattern in them?"

"I… well, I've fought battles at the locations illustrated here." Shanoa noted the most obvious connection.

"No, not that kind of pattern; you're just looking at the surface image that the drawings portray. What I'm talking about runs deeper than that. I'm referring to the essence of a drawing: its soul." Daniela paused for a moment to sip more of her tea and to let Shanoa ponder her words. "How about we play a little game? We'll go through each picture, starting with the drawing of the Lighthouse, and tell each other what we see. Now, I want your honest opinion, so I'll let you go first." Shanoa gave the old woman a cursory glance. There was a mischievous glint in Daniela's eyes as she looked expectantly at the warrior.

_Just what is she driving at?_

"All right," Shanoa said with a slight nod. "What exactly is it that you want me to say?"

"Just tell me the first thing you notice about each drawing. The key to the game is not to overthink your answers."

"Well." Shanoa studied the image in question. "It's a simple scene: a sunset over the ocean. There's… not much else that can be said about it. It's a glowing orb and some waves." The warrior cringed at her inadequate answer. "I- I'm sorry, I'm terrible at this."

"You don't have to fuss over your words, dear. You're just indulging a strange old woman, after all. Now." Daniela's tone made a definitive shift. "Let me tell you what I see." Shanoa was hard-pressed to identify the change in the old woman's voice. It gave her a strange sense of calm.

_Is this how a mother consoles a child?_

"The drawing is lacking in many ways. For a sunset there is a surprising lack of varied colors, and those that _were_ used are dulled at best. It's well-crafted from a technical standpoint, but there's no spirit in it; no life. The artist who drew this picture put no love into it." Daniela pointed to the next drawing. "This waterfall, though, I want you to tell me what you see." Shanoa turned to obey the old woman's request even as a voice deep inside of her screamed in protest. The point that Daniela was trying to make was a dangerous one, but the warrior knew that she could not deny it. Too much had already been said.

"It's blue, overwhelming blue," she said. "A cavern where the rocks are still splayed with ice, but the waterfall rushes forth unhindered."

"Wonderful, but you're still only describing the surface of the drawing. There is a heart that beats beneath the colors left by the pencil. Can you see it?" Daniela's voice washed over Shanoa. "Can you see the heart?"

"I'm… not meant to see…"

"Are you? Don't be so quick to undermine your own insight." Daniela clicked her tongue. "I see a crack within the artist. The waterfall is a glimpse of the strong heart that yearns to break free of the surrounding ice, but the crystals still present a menace. That ice is the most intense brand of cold; it burns to the touch. So much ice… it must be such a burden."

Shanoa was struck with the urge to run, to get as far away from this conversation as possible, but it was time to address the final drawing. She had to at least see this through to the end.

"What do you see?"

"A sanctuary soiled by overwhelming evil." Shanoa shivered at the memory of Albus' distorted face. In the end, even he had fallen prey to Dracula's influence, but that was not what had killed him. What killed him- "Everything changed in front of that cross."

"Holy ground can have that effect on a person. I can see that change when I look at this drawing. The colors are bright and vibrant, and not just in comparison to the previous two. This place touched the soul of the artist. And there, in the center, glows a golden cross: a shining heart that beckons feelings of hope. The artist who drew this, Shanoa, she felt love."

"Daniela." Shanoa turned and stared in amazement at the remarkable woman. "How..?"

"I never had children of my own." The revelation caught Shanoa off guard, but Daniela continued before she could question it. "Certain arts are cruel in their own right. The ability to master powerful magic often requires great sacrifice in return, but I know you are well aware of that. Sometimes the price is mental and other times it is physical. I was young and dedicated; I dared to take the risk. I was convinced that such power would be invaluable, regardless of what it cost me to attain it." The old hunter rested a hand over her abdomen. "I was such a fool."

"I'm sorry," Shanoa said, though she was unsure of the proper thing to do or say in response to such an admission.

"Don't be. I have already wailed enough over my own egotistical blindness. What's done is done; what matters more is how one handles the cards that are dealt to you. Sometimes the things we lose along the way can lead us to unexpected blessings. I came back to this place in the expectation that I would die alone, but instead I found a village waiting for me. When I first saw Wygol I knew that God had guided me back home not to die, but to live. He still had a purpose for these old bones, and I waited patiently until the day a beautiful young warrior walked into our lives. A warrior who reminded me of myself once upon a time, and who desperately needed help." Daniela gave her a smile that could melt the thickest ice. "And at last I can help her let go."

Something snapped inside of Shanoa. It was the final break in her restraints and she felt the walls begin to fall away.

_Oh God…_

"My goodness, I'm out of tea already!" Daniela looked down at her empty cup in surprise. Shanoa grabbed onto that comforting voice in desperation. "Would you mind pouring me another cup, dear?"

"N-no." Shanoa forced her hands to remain steady as she retrieved the cup from Daniela. The warrior also grabbed her still full cup from the side table and carried both over to the kitchen counter. She poured her untouched tea down the sink in a daze and refilled Daniela's cup with what remained inside the kettle. She held the cup with both hands as she returned to Daniela's side. "Here you-" Shanoa paused as she noticed that the old woman's eyes were closed. Her chest moved up and down in a slow rhythm.

_She fell asleep._

Shanoa considered waking her, but quelled that idea when she saw the peaceful look on Daniela's face. A selfish voice in the back of her mind was jubilant over the opportunity this presented for her to sneak away. The warrior placed the tea cup on the side table, threw another log on the fire, and crept out the front door in silence.

Her taut muscles quivered as she stood barefoot in the street. Despite the knot in her stomach it seemed that the tension was the only thing that kept her upright. Her legs threatened to buckle at the first signs of relaxation.

_Just breathe._

A drop of water splashed on her cheek and Shanoa looked up at the now dark gray sky. Daniela's prediction about the weather had been correct; a storm brewed overhead. The impending downfall spurred her to move and she marched through Wygol at a fast pace. The streets were devoid of life, and she thanked God for the emptiness.

_Breathe._

By the time she reached Laura's house the scattered droplets had grown into a drizzle. She slid quietly through the back door and yelped as she almost ran headlong into the jeweler.

"Oh!" Laura jumped back in surprise, but smiled when she realized who it was. Shanoa could not stand to look at that loving smile. Albus had looked at her like that. Her brother… who… "I couldn't find you anywhere in the house. I was just about to go looking for you." Laura paused when she noted the fear on Shanoa's face. She took a tentative step towards the younger woman. "Are you all right?"

_Albus is dead because…_

"No… I can't…" Shanoa pleaded. If she finished that thought it would break her, and if that happened she was not convinced that she'd ever be able to recover.

"Shanoa?" Laura's tone was rife with concern. "What happened?"

"_I see a crack within the artist. The waterfall is a glimpse of the strong heart that yearns to break free of the surrounding ice, but the crystals still present a menace. That ice is the most intense brand of cold; it burns to the touch. So much ice… it must be such a burden."_

"No." The warrior shuddered, but it was too late.

"_And at last I can help her let go."_

"Shanoa!" She heard Laura call her name as she turned on her heels and bolted out the door. The drizzle had morphed into large drops of heavy rain as the storm overhead began to break. The growing downpour did nothing to deter her forward progress. She ran.

_Albus is dead because…_

"Shanoa, wait!" Laura's words could not stop her. Shanoa's bare feet smacked against the wet cobblestones as she pressed on against a strong gust of wind. She needed to flee. The walls around her heart could not save her now. Daniela's words had shattered their ramparts. All that remained was a damning realization, but she had known it all along. She just couldn't admit it. At last the clouds above her burst and the rain became a raging torrent that soaked her to the bone.

She ran.

The warrior reached the end of the street and plowed headlong into the woods beyond. She crossed her arms in front of her face as she barreled through the branches that obstructed her path. One of her bandages snagged on a thick branch and she ripped it free; the cloth tore and fell away from her skin.

"Shanoa!" Laura cried out again. From the sound of her voice Shanoa estimated that the jeweler was not far behind her.

_Don't follow me._

"Ah!" Shanoa's foot caught on a root that protruded from the forest floor and she fell hard to the muddy ground. Her head spun, but she forced herself to overcome it as she scrambled up onto her knees.

_I just need to keep running._

She felt a pair of hands grasp her shoulders. Shanoa squirmed against them, but Laura's grip was strong and she couldn't get away.

_No… I need to run…_

"Shanoa," Laura's voice carried above the squall, "look at me, please." Everything within her screamed that she couldn't. If she looked into those eyes it would break her, but there was no other option left. Shanoa's hesitative blue eyes met Laura's amber ones, and the last remnants of her protective walls collapsed.

A scream of pure sorrow tore loose from her throat as the torrent rushed free. She had denied herself that scream for so long. It ebbed and she inhaled only to cry out once again. Her howling drowned out the sounds of the storm and she convulsed as each guttural wail tore her apart over and over again. She was vaguely aware of the fact that Laura held her in a steady embrace. Shanoa clung to a familiar arm as the screams continued. At last she ran out of breath and shook violently as her lungs gasped for air.

"I never knew…" Shanoa's voice quivered in tandem with her body. She wasn't sure if Laura could understand her distorted words. "I never knew anything. I never knew…"

"Shh." Laura ran a comforting hand through Shanoa's hair. "It's all right-"

"NO! No, it's not! Don't you see? I was so ignorant and blind and if I had just listened then maybe…" A softer wail interrupted her as she squeezed her eyes shut. "Albus is dead because of me. His blood is on my hands, and nothing will ever change that. I slew the Dark Lord, but that fact can't absolve me of my sins. I killed my own brother, the only family or friend I've ever had, and he was the one person who tried to save me from myself. He tried to save me and I killed him for it, but he… he still loved me. He loved me enough to sacrifice his life for mine, not once, but twice.

"Albus was the only thing in my life that wasn't a lie, and now he's gone. Barlowe's ambitions were lies, Ecclesia's purpose was a lie, but Albus-" Sobs racked her as she breached the core of it. "My whole existence is a farce. I am but a substitute Blade for a lost Belmont clan, and now I don't even have that. I'm worthless."

"You have so much, Shanoa. You have an entire village that adores you. I've tried so hard to make you see that." Laura pulled her closer. "You also have me, and I don't befriend anyone who is worthless."

"Please don't be a lie." In her broken state Shanoa could not suppress that overwhelming fear. "I can't lose anyone else; so please…" She choked again on her own emotions. "Please don't let this be another lie."

"I am not a lie." The jeweler moved her hands up to cradle Shanoa's face and she urged the terrified woman to look her in the eyes again. Shanoa gasped at the unwavering resolve reflected in their amber hue. "You can feel my hands, you can see my face, and it's all real. I'm right here and I don't plan on ever going away. I don't abandon the people I care about."

"Please… please promise me."

Laura smiled and kissed her friend on the forehead.

"I promise."

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> same technical changes as in previous chapters.

This has always been one of my favorite chapters. I love to write scenes with older characters as they tend to evoke wonderful insight through their dialogue. It's also an interesting experience as it often feels like they have much more wisdom to offer than I do, yet I'm the one speaking on their behalf. I've always been suspicious of Daniela's supposedly faulty memory. She's far too observant in the game.

The only real change in plot was that I went more in-depth concerning Shanoa's guilt over killing Albus.


	6. Guilt and Resolve

Chapter Six

_Guilt and Resolve_

Shanoa did not know how long she clung to Laura. For a time she feared that the unfettered sobs and wails would have no end, but at last they faded from her voice. She was left with a steady stream of tears as her emotions burst free of their prison. A strong gust of wind billowed past them and Shanoa shuddered hard against the biting cold; the chill was accentuated by her soaked state. She felt Laura shiver as well, but the jeweler stiffened as she attempted to hide her discomfort.

"We should go home," Laura said and gave Shanoa an encouraging squeeze. "We run the risk of getting sick if we stay out here too much longer."

"All right." Shanoa's voice was hoarse from her repeated screams. The jeweler nodded and began to release herself from the embrace. Shanoa's grip tightened on her and she stared up at Laura in fear. The other woman smiled down at her.

"I'm not leaving you. I'm just going to stand up."

"All right," Shanoa said again and reluctantly released her friend. Laura rose to her feet before she reached down and clasped Shanoa's hands. She helped the warrior upright. Shanoa's legs wobbled in exhaustion, but she did not collapse. Her eyes gleamed with vulnerability as she stared at Laura. "Please, don't let go."

"Don't worry." Laura intertwined their fingers. "I've got you." It was such a simple statement, but the honesty in Laura's voice was a welcome change from the lies she had been spoon-fed for so long.

"I'm sorry." Shanoa whispered. She felt so ashamed of her weakness. She could face monumental battles without fear, but it was matters of her own heart that left her cowering. Laura shook her head.

"You have nothing to apologize for." She tugged on the warrior's hands. "Now come on, we can talk more once we're back home and warm."

_Back home…_ Beneath her intermixing pain and sorrow that choice of phrase comforted Shanoa.

The storm continued to rage as they maneuvered through the woods. The women followed the trail of broken twigs and branches left in the wake of their earlier dash. Laura used her right arm to push aside any obstructing branches while Shanoa clung to her left. They reached Wygol in silence and quickened their pace once clear of the underbrush. As they arrived at the back door to Laura's house a bolt of lightning shot across the sky and cracked overhead. The jeweler had left the door unlocked and they leapt inside as another bolt sparked in the gray clouds.

Brutus had remained curled up on the couch and mewed at the drenched pair as they entered. Laura immediately guided Shanoa in front of the wood stove.

"You can start to warm yourself up while I go get you a change of clothes," the jeweler said, but Shanoa tightened her hold on the other woman.

"No, I'll… I'll go with you." Her voice shook with still present terror. She did not want to be left alone, even for a moment. Laura nodded as she seemed to understand her predicament without the need for an explanation.

"As you wish; just let me grab a towel from the kitchen." Once the item had been retrieved they made their way upstairs. Shanoa was forced to let go of Laura's arm so the jeweler could rummage through her extensive wardrobe. The warrior shivered as she stood off to the side. She immediately missed the simple comfort that holding onto Laura's hand had provided; a feeling that perplexed her. She had never been one to crave physical contact, and she hadn't noticed a change in preference. Perhaps it was just the vulnerability of the moment that sparked the need, but that didn't feel like the correct answer.

"Here we are." Laura's voice interrupted her thoughts as the jeweler turned and showed her a plain, pale blue dress. "This will work just fine. It's simple and I don't care if it gets a little wet or muddy."

"Muddy?" Shanoa looked down at herself and gasped when she saw that her feet and the skirt of her nightgown were covered in brown stains. "Oh no! I'm so sorry, Laura! I-"

"Shanoa," the jeweler said with a warm smile. "I meant what I said: you have nothing to apologize for." A few more tears managed to break free at the declaration and Shanoa sniffed as she wiped her cheeks.

"I don't understand. Why are emotions so damn complicated?" The warrior groaned in frustration. "And intense…" Laura cupped Shanoa's cheek and wiped away a stray tear with her thumb.

"Emotions are how we respond to life itself, and since when has life ever been simple?" Laura's smile turned momentarily playful before it settled back into a more serious expression. "What you've been through is intense. It's only fitting that it evokes intense emotions." Shanoa closed her eyes with an exhausted sigh.

"I… sometimes wish that I could go back to the way I was; to a time when I couldn't feel anything. Part of me believes that it would make this easier somehow."

"What good would that do? It wouldn't change the circumstances of your situation. All it would do is hold you back. An empty heart may be spared the bite of sorrow, but it also cannot experience joy. It sounds cliché, I know, but it's true. If you deny yourself what you're feeling now – in all of its guttural intensity – you'll never overcome your past." Laura's tone beckoned Shanoa's attention and she opened her eyes to meet her friend's gaze. More tears leaked from the corners of the warrior's eyes, but Shanoa was past the point where she cared. "These tears." Laura caught another droplet on her thumb. "This is how you let it go."

_How does she consistently know just what to say?_ Shanoa's lips parted to ask the question, but Laura tugged on the sleeve of her sopping wet nightgown.

"Now, we need to get this off of you or you're going to catch a cold." Shanoa dismissed her unasked question with a nod, but hesitated to undress.

"Could you..?" A slight blush tinted her cheeks.

"Oh, of course." The jeweler turned around to give her friend some privacy. "Just let me know when you're finished." Shanoa peeled the wet clothes off of her body and exchanged them for the dry dress. She alerted Laura once the new garment was in place. The jeweler gave Shanoa the towel and retrieved the wet clothes. Shanoa dried her hair as Laura hung the soaked nightgown over the banister and selected another dress from the wardrobe. The warrior's eyes continued to absentmindedly watch Laura as the older woman began to divest herself of her own wet clothing. Shanoa started as the jeweler's bare back came into view and she quickly turned her head away in embarrassment.

It wasn't long before she saw the re-dressed jeweler hang her clothes next to Shanoa's. The warrior had managed to dry her hair as much as possible and held the towel out to her friend. Laura took it with a smile and squeezed the rain out of her curly locks.

"Could you sit down on the edge of the bed?" Laura asked once she was finished. Shanoa complied, but raised an inquisitive eyebrow when the jeweler knelt in front of her. She watched as Laura picked the warrior's right foot and used the damp towel to clean the appendage of muck and grime. The pair was silent as Laura wiped away the filth.

"_Do you think that Laura is just helping you for the hell of it?"_

"Why do you care so much?" Shanoa asked as Eugen's words drifted through her mind. Laura paused in her task and looked up at her friend.

"Pardon?" The jeweler's brow knit in puzzlement.

"Eugen told me something interesting. He insinuated that you've put more effort into helping me than you would for anyone else." Shanoa had already revealed so much, what was one more secret? "He said that I managed to open up your heart in a way that others had failed to do. And that makes me… curious. From the moment we first met you've tried to coax any emotion out of my apathy. These past few days you've been an unwavering support and you don't seem to expect anything in return. So, I want to know, why am I so important to you?" Laura's eyes widened as an unreadable emotion flashed across her face. She looked down at Shanoa's feet in an attempt to avoid the warrior's questioning gaze.

"One could say that I owe you a debt. You did defeat Dracula, after all," the jeweler said. It was, however, an obvious lie.

"But that's not it, is it?" Laura's actions were not born out of obligation. There was something genuine that drove her to reach out to Shanoa. The jeweler sighed.

"… No, it's not."

"Then why?"

Laura fell silent as she cleaned off the last of the dirt. Shanoa waited patiently as the jeweler struggled to answer the question.

"When I was twelve, my mother and I spent over a year traveling with a Romani caravan," she said slowly. "It was the first time I had ever been away from home, which was exciting in its own right, but I was alone in this new group of strangers. I longed for companionship." Shanoa was puzzled by the sudden change in conversation, but decided to hear what her friend had to say.

"Your mother couldn't give that to you?"

"My mother and I have always had a bit of a terse relationship. Even so, I wanted a friend who was my age. It was something that I had always lacked. You see, I've… never been the most sociable person," Laura said with a small, guilty smile. "I make it hard for people to like me."

"_I_ like you." Undeniable honesty welled up in Shanoa's voice.

"You're different; you bring out the most affable side of me. I'm not usually so…" Laura frowned as she failed to find the right words. "You're just different." She finished in a whisper.

"So what makes me 'different'?"

"There are a number of reasons, but you remind me of someone," the jeweler said. "There was a boy in the caravan named Jonathan. He was a year or two younger than I was, and terrified of people. You see, Jonathan had an inherent inclination towards magic. He could bend natural forces to his will as easily as the rest of us draw breath, but he had no control over his power. No one in the caravan had enough knowledge of the appropriate magical field to train him, and his untamed power made him dangerous to those around him. So Jonathan had learned to stay away from people. Whenever I attempted to approach him he'd scurry away before I could say a word." Laura's eyes shone with affection. "That never deterred me, though. If anything it made me even more drawn to him. We shared a similar loneliness, and I felt so sorry for him. I thought that, perhaps, a friendship would ease both our pain.

"I resolved to engage him in conversation at least once. Though I must admit I was rather foolish and a bit reckless in my attempts. He would loiter around the fire pits while meals were being cooked. Jonathan had a habit of snatching food while no one was looking and then he'd scurry off to eat it by himself. I thought this would be an excellent opportunity to catch him by surprise before he had the chance to run away from me…

_Laura craned her head around the side of the wagon to get a better look at Jonathan. The boy was crouched behind a pile of boxes a few meters in away, but didn't notice the girl's presence. His attention was fixated on a plate of sliced bread that sat atop a barrel next to the nearest campfire. This time, Laura vowed, she'd manage to intervene before Jonathan could make good his escape. If she could just talk to him then he'd understand that she wasn't someone he should be afraid of. Her mother had scolded her and insisted that she leave the boy alone, but the strings of desperation pulled Laura back to him. He could understand her plight, and she could understand his. If only she could talk to him._

_She tensed as Jonathan at last made his move. The nearby adults had gathered off to the side and conversed amongst themselves; their collective attention on each other rather than the plate of food. The boy made an excessive amount of noise as he crept towards the barrel, but he managed to grab the bread without being detected. Once his back was to her, Laura moved up behind him. Her progress, in stark comparison to Jonathan's, was silent. She slunk towards the boy as he took a cursory bite of the bread. He remained oblivious to her presence as she stood up straight._

"_Hey," she said in a friendly tone. Jonathan whirled around; his eyes so wide they almost popped out of his skull. Laura gave him a warm, affectionate smile. "Easy, you don't have to be afraid of me." The girl extended her right hand. A bright red apple was held in her palm. "Would you like an apple? I promise it's not poisoned," she said with a chuckle._

_Jonathan continued to stare at her in silence. Laura waited a few moments, but it became evident that the boy wasn't going to respond without some provocation. _

"_It's a gift." She moved her outstretched arm closer to the boy. Jonathan started at the unexpected action. Laura saw the flames of the campfire swirl behind him, but before she could react a fiery tendril lashed out in her direction. She yelped as the flames singed her hair before it snapped and retreated back into the fire as quickly as it had formed. Laura dropped the apple in shock and she ran her hands through her hair to see if it had caught on fire._

_A whine forced its way out of Jonathan's throat and tears welled up in the boy's eyes. Before she could console him he darted off into the woods. Laura grumbled as she located a nearby bucket of water and doused her hair in it._

"_Good job, Laura. Now you've just made it worse," she said to herself. She would never get anywhere like this._

_What had she done wrong? She had taken him by surprise, but he left her little choice if she wanted to induce a conversation. Perhaps a different strategy was in order. If she couldn't approach him head on then maybe he'd react better to something more indirect._

_It was worth a try, at any rate._

_Laura bolted upright and ran back to the wagon she shared with her mother to gather the materials she needed to execute her new plan._

"That night I wrote him a letter. I told him… everything." Laura placed a surprising amount of weight on the word 'everything'. It harkened to untold secrets and a life that Shanoa had just begun to realize was more complex than she'd previously assumed. "About how I felt as lonely as he did and that I only wanted to be his friend. I told Jonathan that I'd leave the final decision up to him, but I was not afraid of him or his power. I took some spare sweet bread we had lying around and wrapped it up in a paper bag. I somehow mustered the courage to ask his father to give Jonathan the present. He never asked me about my intentions, just replied that he'd be glad to pass it along.

"The next morning I found a note that was slipped under our door during the night. Someone had written my name in shaky letters across the folded paper, so I opened it." A warm but almost sorrowful smile formed on Laura's face. "'Thank you.' That was it. The only words he ever said." The jeweler fell silent, but Shanoa sensed that her story wasn't concluded.

"What happened to him?" she asked.

"It was an accident." Laura grimaced and her tone was laden with bitterness. "None of it was his fault. One night an older woman in the caravan caught him as he tried to steal some of her dinner. She scolded him harshly; to the point where Jonathan's terror became so great that he lost control again. I wasn't there, but I heard her screams. The sound was… horrifying…" Laura drew a long breath.

"He lashed out at her the same way he had lashed out at me, only the flames he conjured had actually caused the woman extensive harm. Her burns were quite severe, but a skilled healer had the ability to mend most of the damage done to her face. Jonathan had disappeared immediately after the incident, however, so he didn't know that the wounds could be treated and that the woman would be all right. We looked for him to tell him the good news, but we didn't make it in time." Laura squeezed her eyes shut as a slight tremor ran through her body. Shanoa waited patiently.

"His father found him near their wagon later that night. Jonathan had hung himself from a tree." A single tear ran down Laura's cheek. "I watched as the men cut him down. It was such a waste…"

"I'm sorry," Shanoa said. It was a poor attempt at consolation. Her skills in that area were lacking at best, but she could not think of anything else to say. Laura sniffed and shook her head.

"I made a promise to myself after that. I realized that Jonathan was beyond my power to save. There was nothing I could have done to help him. I couldn't teach him to control his gifts when he so desperately needed it." A spark of resolve flared in her eyes. "But I _had_ reached out to him when everyone else had given up on ever doing so. In the end, it wasn't enough to save him, but maybe it could be enough to save someone else. So I vowed that if I ever met a person who looked like Jonathan did – lost, alone, and afraid – I would do everything I could to help them find their way."

Laura looked into Shanoa's eyes and the warrior's heart skipped a beat at the determination that burned in her amber irises.

"So I will not give up on you. Not just because you deserve to know how much you mean to the people of Wygol, but because I want you to know that you… mean a lot to me, too. I've been alone for a long time, but in you." Laura's expression softened with undulated affection. "I've found a true friend." Shanoa blushed and dropped her gaze. She was unsure of how to respond to such a statement.

"I just brought you the jewels I found." The warrior's cheeks burned.

"You went out of your way to bring them here," Laura said with a chuckle. "And you put up with me, which is even more endearing."

"I don't see why that would be out of the ordinary. You're a worthwhile friend to have. Why would anyone want to push you away?" Shanoa asked. The jeweler stiffened and for a moment there was an indiscernible look in her eyes. It was a strange glint that caused something to twist inside Shanoa's chest. Before she could further explore what just happened Laura sighed and stood up.

"Let me see your arms." She abruptly changed the subject. Shanoa's brow knit in confusion, but she acquiesced to her friend's command. The jeweler tugged on a knot tied high on Shanoa's left bicep and the binding began to fall away. "Your wounds are just about healed. Even the deeper cuts look much better. You probably don't need to keep them bandaged anymore." Shanoa yawned involuntarily as Laura removed the bandages from her arms. "Did you get much sleep?"

"Not really, and the little I did get was restless."

"You look exhausted, but that's not surprising considering you've had a rough morning. You should try to get some more sleep if you can." Shanoa looked down at the bed and frowned. The jeweler seemed to sense her uncertainty and gave her a comforting smile. "I can stay with you if you'd like." Shanoa cringed and her face flustered again.

"I'm acting like a child. I should-"

"Shanoa," Laura said in a firm but empathetic tone. "There's no reason for you to feel ashamed. Especially after all you've been through. I'm your friend, and if it'll help you relax then I'll stay with you." Shanoa hesitated, but she was too tired to object and, in truth, she realized that she had no reason to.

_I have so much to learn._

It suddenly dawned on her that Ecclesia and its customs were no longer a part of her life. How human interaction was treated within the Order and how societal norms worked in the outside world were two different things. Ecclesia had taught her to shun affectionate displays, but at the moment she could not remember for the life of her the reasons why. Was it to guard against personal weakness? Was it born out of the fear that allowing someone to get close to their precious Blade could reveal her vulnerabilities?

"_I don't abandon the people I care about."_

Shanoa could trust Laura with this; with her fear, and with her weakness.

"Thank you," the warrior said, and there was a world of meaning within her words.

IXI

_To become a full initiate of Ecclesia one had to undergo an arduous procedure. Even though most of the Order's members had been born into its fold a person was not considered a true acolyte until they passed a trial. This trial was performed under the close observation of the elders. It revealed an individual's potential and determined their place within the hierarchy of the Order._

_After Shanoa had bled for the first time – once nature deemed her a woman – she was fit to undergo her trial. Barlowe brought her to the secretive room that lay beyond the elder's meeting chamber. It was a forbidden place, and it took all of her strength not to quake at the sight that greeted her. A great black idol towered in the center of the room; the surface of its imposing visage appeared to devour all light that chanced to touch it. The elders had gathered around the stone edifice and they watched her in silence as Barlowe situated her before the idol._

"_Wh-what am I supposed to do?" Shanoa's voice wavered with uncertainty. The judging eyes of the elders did nothing to ease her nerves. She wanted to please them, but she was unaware of what this ritual entailed._

"_We've brought you here to measure the strength of your spirit," Barlowe said. "This knowledge will determine the course of your future training. In truth, it is a rather simple process. All you have to do is place your hands upon the idol."_

_The girl gulped, but did as instructed. A sickening feeling churned in the pit of her stomach as she approached the onyx stone. There was something innately unsettling about the idol. The artifact was… unnatural. Shanoa hesitated before it, reluctant to touch something so terrifying, but she swallowed her fear and placed her hands upon its face. The stone was cool to the touch and she felt unexpected divots and grooves carved into its surface. Shanoa looked closer and realized that tiny runes – indistinguishable from a distance – covered the entire idol. _

_She fidgeted as the minutes ticked by. The elders remained silent; their eyes fixed upon the girl. A different strain of worry rose in her chest as she waited. Was something supposed to happen? If so, then what did this lapse mean? Had she failed? Shanoa's eyes narrowed with determination. She would not fail this test, but how could she succeed given such a vague premise?_

'_Lord, give me strength.' She closed her eyes and offered the silent prayer. Perhaps divine guidance could show her the way-_

_Something shifted in her hands._

_Shanoa's eyes flew open and she leapt backwards in surprise at the unexpected movement._

"_No!" Barlowe shouted at her. "You must keep your hands upon the idol!" It was the last thing that Shanoa wanted to do, but she fought through her fear. Barlowe would not steer her wrong. He knew what was best for everyone in the Order, and consequently what was best for her. She returned to her previous position and placed her hands flush against the black stone._

_The cool surface of the idol grew hot under her palms. She could not find the words to describe it, but something writhed beneath the touch of her hands. Something massive and powerful that pushed against the stone that encased it. Shanoa summoned every remnant of her courage to keep herself rooted in place. She did not move even as the runes cut into the idol began to glow with an eerie crimson light._

"_Dear God…" she whispered as the light intensified. The idol was alive. She could feel its heart pulse in a steady beat. This was something that she did not have the means to comprehend. An entity that was both beautiful and terrifyingly powerful. There was the sound of a loud crack and Shanoa winced as electrified bolts of red light snapped in the air around her._

"_Do not be afraid, Shanoa!" Barlowe called to her through the magic that swarmed in the chamber. "All is as the Lord wills it!" Shanoa cried out in pain as a bolt found her flesh. She clung to Barlowe's words as the crimson light turned its fury upon her._

'_As the Lord wills it… As the Lord wills it…' She recited the phrase as the bolts struck her with ever increasing frequency._

_After an indeterminate amount of time the light gathered in front of Shanoa and formed three crimson ethereal spears. She had but a moment to fear their implication before they drove into her. One spear pierced between her shoulder blades while the other two buried deep into her upper arms. Shanoa's screams reverberated against the walls of the chamber as an unbearable pain surged over her. She felt her skin blister as the spears seared into her flesh. Her vision glossed with a red haze and Shanoa thought she heard a voice through the onslaught, but she could not discern what it said. The words were drowned out by her wails._

_There was another loud snap of energy, and then the light receded back into the idol. The pain ebbed away as the stone returned to its dormant state. The crimson glow faded from the runes and Shanoa collapsed to her knees. She heard the elders chant in unison – the words recited in Latin – but she paid them little heed._

_The spears had burned away the sleeves of her dress and she inspected her arms to see what the light had left in its wake. Identical markings had been tattooed into the flesh of her upper arms. Their outlines still glowed with residual magic. Shanoa could not see her back, but it was safe to assume that she now bore similar markings there as well._

"_It's you." She turned her head in the direction of Barlowe's voice. The old man approached her with a triumphant smile on his face. He reached out to touch his protégée and his fingers caressed the fresh symbols. "You have been given a great blessing, Shanoa."_

"_Blessing?" She looked up at him in confusion. How could the source of such intense pain be a blessing?_

"_Yes, you have been chosen by the Lord to be an instrument of His might." For a brief moment a more wicked emotion touched the smile on Barlowe's face, but it was gone so fast that Shanoa questioned if it had been there at all. "The path is a difficult one, but of the utmost importance. You now have the ability to command a unique form of magic. Most men can only master just one or two spells in their lifetime, but you are the exception. With this blessing you can channel the spells directly into your flesh, and thus you are capable of wielding every incantation. Your gift is one of understanding. Your soul can house power the likes of which the world has never seen."_

"_What is this magic?" she asked in wonderment. _

"_Glyphs, Shanoa." She had heard the term before, but did not know its meaning. It was a word spoken in harsh whispers and never in the company of elders. Barlowe, however, said it without apprehension or fear. "The universe is comprised of forces both seen and unseen. All things have power assigned to them by these forces: fire's ability to burn, ice's ability to freeze, and even steel's ability to be fashioned into a sharpened blade. It is a magic derived from matter itself. Few can tap into its potential, but we have found a way. The Order of Ecclesia was the first to harness this magic. We pride ourselves with the sole knowledge of how to forge and wield such arts. And you…" His smile grew even wider. "You are the one we have been waiting for. You are the only person capable of comprehending Dominus: the most powerful Glyph of all."_

_Shanoa's mind reeled as she tried to grasp the full weight of her new destiny, but perhaps it wasn't new. Perhaps this had been her life's purpose all along._

"_What makes Dominus so powerful?" It was the only question she could formulate._

"_Because Dominus can kill the immortal; it can sunder that which mortal man may never touch." Barlowe raised his outstretched arms. "The idol that stands before you makes a mockery of the human will. It's a barricade between us and the fulfillment of mankind's greatest wish. Dominus, however, can destroy the idol, and in doing so you will become our savior. You will create a world where humanity can look to the dawn without fearing the darkness."_

"_A world where humanity can look to the dawn without fearing the darkness." The elders chanted Barlowe's declaration in unison._

_And in that moment – surrounded by the enormity of her newfound purpose – Shanoa believed them._

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> most of the alterations in this chapter were cosmetic. The most notable changes happened to Laura's revelation about Jonathan. I'm a devout believer in "show, don't tell" which accounts for the copious amount of flashbacks throughout this story. However, I've never been quite sure how to properly handle Laura's memory of Jonathan as the focus is the effect he still has on her as an adult. He taught her lessons that she wouldn't have had the maturity or frame of mind to understand when she was twelve. So I've tried to find a good balance between the different kinds of exposition that a flashback and the way a story is recounted both provide. The original version, for example, did not include a flashback scene.

I also did some exploring into the nature of Glyphs. Konami is, once again, vague in their descriptions of this type of magic. To quote Barlowe, "We tap the power in all things, great and small, to forge Glyphs through Ecclesia's secret art." That's about as specific as the canon description gets, though it does explain that Glyphs are constructed from pre-existing matter. I don't need a lot of source material for my mind to fill in the blanks, so I simply ran with the idea.


	7. Anew

Chapter Seven

_Anew_

When Shanoa opened her eyes she was overcome by a sense of calm that contradicted the intensity of her dream. It was quite a shift from the tumultuous emotions that hounded her as of late. She was, at least, relieved to have some respite from her internal conflicts. She sighed in contentment and closed her eyes again as she took solace in this newfound peace.

She did not fall back asleep as she marveled at the stillness of her surroundings. Long rays of warm sunlight bathed her face and she heard the soft breathing of someone next to her.

_Next to me?_

Shanoa rolled over towards the source of the sound. She opened her eyelids a crack and spied a limp hand resting on the mattress near her head. The warrior looked up and saw Laura leaning back against the headboard in a light slumber. She had grabbed a book to read before she settled into bed with Shanoa, but it lay open in Laura's lap as if she had fallen asleep in the midst of reading a sentence.

_She didn't leave._

Shanoa did not care for the feeling of surprise that accompanied the thought. She shook herself free of the negativity that it provoked and she stretched her arms above her head as she sat up. The angle of the sunlight that streamed through the windows indicated that it was late in the afternoon. She surmised that the morning's events must have taken a bigger toll on the two women than either of them had initially realized. The warrior rubbed her eyes and turned to get a better look at her sleeping friend.

Laura's head was tilted to the side; her neck slightly inclined towards Shanoa. The rays of sunlight illuminated the jeweler's face with a soft glow and gleamed in the strands of her dark curly hair. As Shanoa stared a singular thought made its way to the forefront of her mind.

_She's beautiful._

Something deep within the warrior shifted and – for the first time – she realized how all-encompassing that description was. Laura was physically beautiful, there was no denying that fact, but there was more to it than her outward appearance. The jeweler possessed a heart that burned with unwavering conviction and a kind of strength that Shanoa had, before now, only observed in Albus.

Shanoa was a hardened warrior. She prevailed in combat with ease, but she lacked personal conviction. Her spirit was as delicate and fragile as glass, and in battles of the heart it broke easily. Shanoa had never been strong on her own. She never needed to be before now. Her whole life had been dictated by Barlowe and Ecclesia. Her decision to stand against Dracula had been her one independent act, and even that had been driven by the purpose that was imbued within her the day the idol carved markings into her flesh.

"_Here I am... It's all gone. ...What little I had, anyway. No, that's not true, there's one thing left... ...My mission. I'm the only one left who can end this. Hear me, Dracula! I am the morning sun, come to vanquish this horrible night!"_

Shanoa had not become the morning sun by her own command, but Laura…

She reached out to caress the jeweler's face, but Shanoa caught herself before she could make contact. Her hand trembled in the air as a strange feeling washed over her.

_I want… something…_

What did she want? Something clawed within her now; something awakened by the realization that, in every sense of the word, this woman was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. A sudden wish for something unidentifiable that rested in the tips of her fingers as they reached out to close the distance between them.

_A wish for what?_

Shanoa drew her hand back as the jeweler's eyelids fluttered. After a few moments Laura stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled at Shanoa as her vision focused.

"I guess we were both tired," Laura said in an amused tone. Shanoa simply nodded in response. The jeweler studied her friend's perplexed expression. "Is something wrong?"

"I had a… troubling dream." It was not a lie, but neither was it the cause of Shanoa's confusion. The warrior's intuition told her to keep the realization a secret. While she was too embarrassed to admit the extent of her admiration it would also be strange for her to fawn over another woman's beauty. "Though I suppose it would be inaccurate to call it a dream. In actuality it was more like reliving an old memory."

"Tell me about it."

Shanoa recounted the ritual for her friend. It had been just over eight years since her trial, but ghosts of searing pain prickled in Shanoa's flesh as she spoke of it. When she finished the jeweler's eyes glistened with newfound understanding.

"I've always wondered about those tattoos of yours," Laura said. She reached out and traced the marks on Shanoa's left bicep with her fingers. Her touch set the warrior on edge for some reason. Was she so averse to physical contact that something so simple could unnerve her?

"They're just ordinary markings now." Shanoa did not attempt to hide the bitterness in her tone. The harsh bite of her words was accented by the anger that roiled in her gut. "I can't summon Glyphs anymore. I haven't been able to since that night the castle crumbled." The warrior grimaced. "And I can't help but think that they're related. That all of these things are connected: Dracula's castle, Glyphs, the idol, and my tattoos. The idol that imprisoned Dracula gave me an innate understanding of Glyphs; supposedly with the intention that I would gain the ability to wield Dominus and destroy the idol. If that truly was the reason why… perhaps the source of that crimson light was Dracula himself. Perhaps he was able to reach through the idol and mark me as a kind of sacrifice or martyr or whatever the hell Barlowe would see fit to call it."

Shanoa ground her teeth. "What if that's why I can't summon Glyphs anymore? What if, once I destroyed Dracula, I destroyed the force that gave Glyphs their power? What if Dracula was the one who created me; the one who made me Ecclesia's Blade?" Silence engulfed them as Shanoa fumed. She had already given up so much, and if she had to disown all that she'd accomplished because her actions were tainted by Dracula's influence…

"You said that the idol was a prison that housed the Dark Lord." Laura approached the volatile subject with a cautious voice. "If that's true, then how could it have been possible for Dracula to breach the seal?"

"What do you mean?"

"A prison that allows its captive to reach beyond its walls is not a very good prison. If Dracula could already breach the seal then there would have been no need for Barlowe or Dominus. He could have escaped on his own." The warrior's brow knit in confusion.

"If that's the case, then what was that crimson light?"

"The idol must have been constructed of immensely strong, holy magic if it was able to keep Dracula himself at bay," Laura said with a nod. "Perhaps the light was an extension of whatever righteous force that enacted the barrier? Perhaps _that_ was the force that gave you the ability to comprehend Glyphs, not the Dark Lord." Shanoa's eyes widened as she considered this new possibility.

"I've never thought of it that way." She closed her eyes and willed herself to remember the nature of Glyphs; how it felt to summon them and wield their might. It was a bit difficult now that she was cut off from their power, but the knowledge came. "Dominus did not act in the same manner as other Glyphs. The fragments were leeches. They sapped the life force from the user, and I avoided calling upon them at all costs. Every other Glyph I've used just required the aid of mana; the same as any other form of magic." Hope blossomed inside of Shanoa. "Dominus was derived from Dracula, and thus it sought to destroy everything it touched. If all Glyphs originated from the Dark Lord's power, then it's likely that they would behave in the same manner, yet they don't."

"So then there must be a different explanation as to why you can't use Glyphs anymore." Laura gave her a reassuring smile. "What else do you know about them?"

"I just know the bare basics of what Glyphs are." Shanoa shook her head with a sigh. "My training was focused on how to use them, not on understanding the knowledge contained within. Barlowe did his best to ensure that I would be an effective, unquestioning weapon." Laura's gaze drifted down to Shanoa's abdomen.

"Perhaps that brand has something to do with it." Shanoa hissed at the reminder and clutched her stomach. She had almost forgotten about the marks left by Blackmore.

"That is a distinct possibility." Her grip tightened as she pondered the thought.

"Does it hurt?" the jeweler asked in concern.

"No, but the brand is a clear reminder of what happened inside the castle, and it's something I'll be glad to be rid of."

"I told you about my mother's talents." There was some apprehension in Laura's tone. "I know that she has the skill to remove the brand, but she lives quite a distance from here."

"How far?"

"The journey will take almost a week, which is why I hesitated to approach the subject earlier. I didn't want to suggest that you leave Wygol in such a fragile emotional state, but after what happened this morning." Laura smiled. "I think things are different. It takes more than a few days for someone to grieve, but I'd say you're off to a damn good start."

Shanoa stared at her in silence for a moment before she lunged forward and squeezed Laura in a tight embrace. The warrior could not explain why she did it; just that she knew that she had to. Laura yelped a little in surprise, but did not hesitate to return the gesture.

"I can't possibly hope to thank you for everything you've done," Shanoa whispered. Laura briefly caressed Shanoa's back.

"You don't have to." Her voice was laden with an emotion that Shanoa could not identify. Shanoa drew back and Laura gasped when she saw the expression on the warrior's face. "Shanoa, you're smiling!"

That peaceful calm had returned. Shanoa was not yet free of Ecclesia's lasting influence, but there had been a giant shift on the battlefield. Shanoa did not have to fight this war alone. Her face glowed as she smiled beyond her ability to control.

"I know." She chuckled at herself. "I just… I know."

IXI

The two women had changed into clean dresses and descended to the kitchen to eat some dinner when they heard a pair of excited voices outside the house. Laura had already started towards the back door to investigate by the time they got around to knocking. The jeweler opened the door and was greeted with the smiling faces of Serge and Anna. Tom was also present, the cat once again curled up in the girl's arms.

"Laura! You've got to come and see!" Serge was so giddy he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet as he spoke. "Monica's boyfriend came to visit and he brought some people with him!"

"He's not her boyfriend," Anna said. Tom mewed in agreement.

"Of course he's her boyfriend!" Serge rolled his eyes.

"And just how do you know that?" the girl asked. "I haven't seen them kiss or anything."

"He doesn't _have_ to kiss her in order to be her boyfriend." Serge patted his younger sister on the head. "I'd explain it to you, but it's complicated grown-up stuff. You're not old enough to understand."

"I am too!" Anna stomped her foot with an indignant huff.

"Hold it you two!" Laura interrupted the siblings before their banter escalated into full-scale bickering. "I think I've missed something important. What's going on and why are you so excited about it?"

"That man – the merchant who brings Monica her fabric – is back in the village and he brought a group of people with him!" Serge gave Laura a wide, toothy grin. "He says that they're actors and they're going to put on a play for us! Our job is _very_ important because we're going around town to tell everyone about it."

"You should come watch the play with us!" Anna nodded. "Shanoa should come too! We want everyone to be there!" The warrior had crept up behind her friend and peered around Laura at the siblings. Anna smiled and waved at her as she came into the girl's line of sight. Shanoa blushed, but waved back. For some reason it made her feel fidgety and awkward to be around the two children. She could not determine if this was her natural response to kids. Since she had been one of the youngest members of Ecclesia her interaction with children was almost non-existent.

"How about it, Shanoa?" Laura turned to face the warrior. Her expression was one of caution. "I know it's been a long day, so if you want to stay home then I won't object." Shanoa looked down at Serge and Anna and found herself enrapt by the genuine excitement splayed across their faces. It was rather contagious.

"It sounds like fun. I'd love to go," Shanoa said with a smile. The siblings beamed up at her.

"You're going to love it! The actors said they're going to be performing all sorts of funny things!" Serge grabbed Shanoa's hand and tugged on it. The warrior gulped, but she let him drag her out from behind Laura and through the open doorway.

"Anecdote," Anna said. Serge gave her a confused look.

"What?"

"They said something about 'anecdotes'." Her pronunciation of the word was skewed due to her lack of familiarity with it. Her brother simply became more confused.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know." Anna shrugged. "I heard one of the actors say it when they were talking to mom about what the play was going to be."

"It probably means that the actors are going to perform various scenes from different plays rather than one play in its entirety," Laura said as she stepped out onto the street. The jeweler closed and locked the back door behind her. "Where are we going?"

"Everyone's in the village square," Anna said. "Well, everyone except Daniela and Eugen. Daniela was already asleep and Eugen just grunted something about not being the 'theater-going type'."

"Come on!" Serge yanked on Shanoa's arm again and she stumbled forward as the boy began to march down the street. "I don't want them to start without us!"

"Careful, Serge! You could hurt her if you pull too hard!" Anna shouted after him.

"That's silly, Anna, she's a hero! I couldn't hurt her even if I tried!" Shanoa blushed as Serge turned and tried to get her to run with him. Her heart swelled at the sight. _He is rather adorable,_ she admitted to herself and acquiesced to his wishes. Shanoa lifted up the front of her blue dress with her free hand and she quickened her pace until she jogged alongside the boy.

"I know you're faster than this." Her tease earned the warrior a devilish grin from the eager boy. Serge broke out into a sprint with Shanoa fast on his heels. He kept a hand wrapped around her wrist as they left Anna and Laura behind and bolted towards the center of Wygol.

The late afternoon sun had begun to set and cast long shadows in front of the pair upon the cobblestone streets. Serge was full of boyish energy, but it could not compare to her sheer stamina. Shanoa matched his pace with ease. The pair skidded to a halt when they reached their destination. Serge panted as Shanoa looked about the square. The warrior, however, was unfazed by the short sprint.

All of the roads in Wygol (which there were, admittedly, few of) converged in the center of town to form a large open space that the inhabitants had transformed into a public square. They had cleared away the cobblestones and planted four strips of grass that formed a rectangle in the middle of the intersection. A tree had been planted in each of the four corners and wooden benches were lined up against the grass. A large street lamp was erected in the middle of the square to illuminate the surrounding area at night.

The villagers had organized the layout into a sort of makeshift outdoor theater. The benches were rearranged into two perpendicular rows that faced what would serve as the stage. Someone had cast an illumination spell and a ball of white light hovered above the impromptu stage in preparation for the encroaching nightfall.

True to the children's word, most of the inhabitants of Wygol milled about the square. Aeon was showing the contents of a large brown box to Jacob and Irina. Monica stood next to a tall, blonde-haired man who had his back to Shanoa as he conversed with three strangers she didn't recognize. The warrior assumed that they were the visiting actors. George sat in a chair next to the stage and fiddled with the strings of his violin.

Abram was perched on the edge of one of the benches as a stern Father Nikolai leered over him. The healer's leg bounced up and down as his elder spoke. Marcel stood off to the side and leaned against one of the nearby trees with a lit cigarette in his hand. The reporter caught Shanoa's eye and inclined his head towards her in acknowledgement.

"Shanoa!" She turned and saw Father Nikolai approach her with his arms outstretched. His business with Abram appeared to be concluded. She looked past Nikolai to glance at the healer. Abram's head was bowed and his leg bounced faster than before. "It's wonderful to see you again." Shanoa's eyes flicked back to the priest as he drew near.

"It's been a while, Father," she said in a polite tone. Her interaction with Nikolai was limited and what little she had seen of the aging priest was a man frantic with concern over the safety of his flock. This was the first time that she had seen Nikolai in a worry-free state, though she wondered what exactly he had been discussing with Abram.

"I received word of your return a few days ago, but alas I have not had the opportunity to call. I've been rather busy studying the effects of the evil that stemmed from that strange castle." He shook his head. "That wicked bastion may be gone, yet that does not guarantee the disappearance of our recent plague of monsters. Ah, but I digress, my concerns are my own. I wanted to give you something." Nikolai took Shanoa's hand and placed something cool in her palm. She looked down at the object: it was an old silver ring set with an orange gemstone. The stone was flanked on either side by small wings made of the same silver as the band.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"I want to impart my heartfelt thanks." Nikolai gave her a warm smile. "Look around you, Shanoa. It's a marvelous sight to behold. You saved these people's lives, and now you've restored their peace of mind. This village is healing before our eyes. You are truly a gift from above; a saint if ever there was one. I don't have much to offer in way of gratitude, but please accept this. It is a ring that has been passed down through my family."

"I can't take something so personal-" Shanoa began to object, but Nikolai held up his hand.

"The ring is an enchanted one. It emits certain properties when worn in battle. In effect it strengthens the warrior who bears it. I am, by nature, a peaceful man. My ancestors may have been fighters, but I do not take part in war. That is not my role. I have little use for such a trinket and, in the end, I believe that the man who gave it to me would rather see the ring in the hands of one who needs it." Shanoa nodded and slipped the ring onto her finger. Nikolai chuckled as the silver caught a ray of yellow sunlight and the wings were bathed in a fiery glow. "See, it's been waiting for you for years."

"Father!" Monica called out from across the square. Nikolai sighed and clasped Shanoa's hand.

"It appears that I am needed. If you ever require guidance or spiritual aide do not hesitate to call upon me." He gave her one last smile before he turned to help yet another member of his flock. "Yes, my child, I am coming…"

Shanoa stared after the priest. She decided that she rather liked this new side of him.

"A ring? That's it?" Serge's voice startled Shanoa and she realized that the boy had been standing next to her throughout the entire exchange. "That's a crummy present if you ask me. He should have given you a sword or something useful like that."

"Rings can be useful too." Shanoa frowned at him. Serge stuck out his tongue in disgust.

"Yeah, useful for _girls_ maybe."

"A ring? Can I see it?" Anna bounded up to them as she and Laura finally caught up to the pair. Serge rolled his eyes at his sister as she studied the new jewelry on Shanoa's finger. "It's really pretty! The stone looks like the one on Tom's collar." The cat in question meowed and lifted his chin to show off the enchanted collar that Laura had made for him. A small smile touched Shanoa's lips as she reached out and scratched Tom behind the ears.

"Oh shit," Laura said under her breath as she spotted something behind the warrior. Shanoa raised an eyebrow at her friend and turned to see what had her in such a fuss. She paused as the reason for Laura's discomfort became clear: Irina lumbered towards the group with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Her face was cut by deep creases that made evident the baker's disapproval.

"Where have you two been?" she asked as she eyed her children.

"We've been letting everyone know that they should come see the actors, momma." Anna was the first to respond. "It's just like we told you."

"Yeah, we weren't gone very long," Serge said.

"It was still too long! Here I was all worried that you two wouldn't be back before sundown, and with all the monsters that have been running about God only knows what could happen to you after dark!" The distressed mother shivered. "I was about to ask Marcel to go look for you."

"They were with us the entire time," Laura said. Irina scoffed and shook her head.

"Well, they at least had _one_ trustworthy adult watching over them." Laura clenched her jaw in silent rage at her words. Shanoa was dumbfounded by the blatant hostility of the exchange. Irina shifted her attention to the warrior. "The children told me you'd come back, and not a moment too soon, I might add! As if the werewolves weren't bad enough I've now been plagued by banshee screams. Father Nikolai assures me that the monsters have vanished, but I swear I can still hear those harpies screeching at night. I can't get a wink of sleep. You've been such a dear in the past, what with getting rid of those pesky wolves, and I thought that this time you-"

"I'm sorry." Shanoa held up her arms to show the baker her stitches. "But I'm not exactly battle ready at the moment."

"Oh, you poor thing!" Irina gingerly touched the warrior's arm. "You know, if you're ever looking for a place to stay there's always room for you at our house. Plus, as you are well aware, I am an excellent baker. I can sate your appetite much better than most people in this village." The woman sighed and titled her head. "You're so thin. If you just spent a few days under my supervision I could clear that problem right up."

"I think a few days with you would do a hell of a lot of damage and no good at all," Laura muttered. Irina shot the jeweler an icy glare and held out her arms to her children.

"Anna, Serge, let's go find a good place for us to sit. Heaven knows that some vile gypsy might just snatch you up from right under my nose." The siblings were delighted by her suggestion and ran past their mother to claim a spot on the benches closest to the stage. Irina gasped and spun around to chase after her children. Shanoa stared wide-eyed at the baker as she staggered away.

"… What just happened?" The warrior's mind reeled from the encounter.

"Irina happened." Laura's nostrils flared as she fumed. "I have no idea how those children are so sweet when their mother is so wicked. 'Vile gypsy'! I swear to God one of these days I'm going to smack her right across the face."

"That might do more harm than good. It would just affirm her suspicions about you."

"I suppose you're right." Laura sighed in defeat. "It just infuriates me to know that she's filling their heads with lies. Not just about me, but about people in general."

"They're smart kids. They know that most of what she says is false. If they believed every word that came out of their mother's mouth they wouldn't adore you so." Laura chuckled and smiled at the warrior.

"You weren't so bad with them yourself."

"Really?" Shanoa balked at her friend.

"Of course! Serge doesn't have anyone to play with besides Anna, and she's not quite so energetic. I thought it was wonderful how you indulged him – if only briefly. It's nice that he found someone else who can keep up with him." That warrior's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink.

"I just haven't spent much time around children. I'm not always sure how I should act towards them."

"I've learned that the key thing to remember about kids is that they want to be treated like what they say and feel matters." Laura's fond smile grew wider. "It gets a lot easier when you keep that in mind. Children are humans too, after all. They're not some strange entities from another dimension."

"Monsters would be less cumbersome to deal with," the warrior said with a slight shake of her head, yet a hint of a smile touched the corners of her lips. "You don't have to worry about their feelings."

"That's right; I forgot who I was talking to for a second." Laura laughed. They fell into a comfortable silence and Shanoa's gaze wandered about the square. The sun had almost retreated behind the horizon at this point, but the illumination spell cast enough white light to render it a non-issue. Shanoa's eyes found their way back to Monica and her tall companion. The pair was still wrapped up in their conversation with Father Nikolai.

"Who is that man standing next to Monica?" Shanoa asked.

"That's the one and only Timothy." Laura tugged on her friend's arm. "We should go over and introduce ourselves, or at least you should. Monica mumbled something the other day about wanting him to meet you." Shanoa hesitated at the suggestion.

"Yes…"

"Hey, you've done a wonderful job socializing with people so far," Laura said in an optimistic tone. The warrior paused and thought back to the myriad of rather torrid conversations she'd had in recent days.

"You're right," Shanoa said with a bit of confidence. Laura beamed as the warrior lifted her chin and started off towards the pair without any further encouragement. The jeweler followed close behind. They got about halfway across the plaza before they were intercepted once again, this time by Aeon. The chef smiled up at them and held out the paper box.

"Ladies, may I interest you in some free samples of my latest creation?" he asked in his typical jolly manner. Shanoa's expression remained rigidly stoic, but Laura couldn't suppress a slight grimace.

"Um…" the jeweler said with a healthy amount of hesitation.

"Oh, you're concerned about the quality!" Aeon chortled. "There's no cause for alarm, I assure you. This dish is nothing short of delectable!" His encouragement did not assuage Shanoa's concerns.

"I mean…"

"Well, you've said that in the past." Laura had more success in voicing their collective misgivings.

"Ah yes, yes I have." The chef nodded in understanding and indicated to Shanoa. "But that was before this wonderful woman here enlightened me about the true essence of flavor! A rather unsavory experience a few years back had led me to believe that sampling my dishes was terrible for my constitution. I see now that I was mistaken, and recently have made it a habit to test the flavor of my creations as I cook. My skills as a master chef have improved by leaps and bounds as a result. So please, try one of these sandwiches. I promise that you won't be disappointed."

The two women peered into the box at the food in question. The sandwiches appeared to be rather simple: a bun filled with meat and cheese. It left little room for failure, but they remained apprehensive.

"Well, I guess it couldn't hurt," Laura said in defeat and picked up one of the sandwiches. Shanoa followed in turn. The women held the sandwiches up to their mouths in nervous anticipation. They shared a quick glance before they simultaneously bit into their food; Laura's eyes widened in surprise as she chewed and swallowed her bite.

"It's… good!" The jeweler gaped at the sandwich in her hand. Shanoa nodded in agreement; her eyes as wide as Laura's. The ingredients were fresh and Aeon had added a homemade mustard sauce to the sandwiches that blended perfectly with the salty taste of the meat.

"What did I tell you? It's a real transformation!" Aeon puffed out his chest with pride. "Once I generate enough word of mouth I'll have the entire village begging me to cook for them. Perhaps I'll even go back into the restaurant business? I could open my own café this time." The lull in his voice made Shanoa worry that the chef would drift off into his daydream, but he perked up as a thought struck him. "I should offer some samples to the actors! Then, once I've gained their favor, they will spread the word of my success outside of Wygol. Sometimes I surprise myself with my own brilliance!" The portly chef looked towards the stage in search of the three strangers. The actors had migrated over to speak with George and Aeon bounded towards the group with an excited fervor that Shanoa had never seen from him. Laura glanced down at her sandwich and shook her head.

"Hell must have frozen over," the jeweler said to herself. Shanoa did not respond as she devoured what remained of her sandwich. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until she'd tasted food. Laura watched the warrior in amusement. "Do you want the rest of mine too?" Shanoa shook her head and brushed the crumbs off her hands.

"No, we should go talk to this Timothy before we get sidetracked again or I lose my courage."

Abram was sitting nearby and Laura paused to give him what was left of her sandwich. He still appeared upset over whatever he and Father Nikolai had discussed and his leg continued to bounce up and down. The healer nodded in thanks and took the sandwich without a word. Shanoa shot Laura a confused look, but the jeweler only shrugged.

Timothy and Monica were conversing by themselves when the women walked up to them. Father Nikolai had moved on to mingle with the rest of his small flock. Shanoa was at last able to get a good look at Timothy's face. The young merchant was quite tall and fit from his regular travels through the Carpathians. His short blonde hair looked a bit scraggy, as if he had attempted to trim it himself. He was clean shaven and it made apparent the reason why Monica had been able to muster the courage to speak to him in the first place. Timothy's boyish face was round, inviting, and quite unthreatening. His lips were curved in a wide grin as he spoke to the seamstress. Monica appeared equally entranced by the young man; neither of them noticed the two women until Laura cleared her throat.

"Oh!" Monica started at the unexpected noise. She turned and immediately relaxed when she saw who it was.

"I didn't mean to scare you," the jeweler said with an apologetic smile. Monica shook her head.

"You didn't do anything wrong, it's just me. I'm a bit jumpy tonight," she said. Timothy looked like he wanted to console Monica, but couldn't find the right words to do so. He turned to the jeweler instead.

"You're Laura, right?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm surprised that you remember my name. We only met in passing."

"I try and make a habit of remembering names." Timothy smiled and looked at Shanoa. "Though I don't believe we've met before." The warrior nodded and extended her hand.

"I'm Shanoa." The young man took her hand and gave it a firm shake.

"My name is Timothy. I usually just pass through Wygol, but all the villagers speak highly of you, and quite often it seems," he said with a smile. "It's a pleasure to finally be able to put a face to the name. I do hope you enjoy the show tonight. As you can see, we've had quite the turnout."

"What inspired you to arrange an event like this, anyway?" Shanoa asked with genuine curiosity. Timothy scratched his neck and chuckled.

"Well, Monica often laments over how easy it is to feel isolated in such a small village and that, aside from the merchants, Wygol is almost devoid of visitors. Her comments reminded me of how I felt when I was a child. I grew up in a town about this size and things were pretty monotonous. It was rare that anything exciting happened. So I figured it'd be nice if someone brought civilization to Wygol for a change; even if it is just for one night."

"You've done a marvelous job," Laura said. "And I'm sure it gives you two an excuse to spend some time together," she added with a wink. The suggestion caused both Monica and Timothy to turn bright shades of red.

"But…" Monica squeaked.

"We're not- I mean… it's not that I don't…" Timothy's mouth moved wordlessly for a few seconds as he fumbled over how to respond. "What I'm trying to say is… I _do_ enjoy Monica's company-" The pair absentmindedly glanced at each other. Their eyes locked for a long moment before Monica startled everyone when she leapt towards Shanoa and grabbed the warrior's arm.

"You know, Shanoa used to bring me my materials before… you did," the seamstress said in an attempt to escape the awkward moment.

"Oh, I did not know that." Timothy played along as he tried to discreetly raise a hand to cover his burning cheeks.

Monica took the opening to delve into her account of Shanoa's generosity. The warrior did not have much to add, she would chime in to agree with Monica when prompted, but nothing more. It felt strange to be the recipient of so much undulated praise, yet it was not unwelcome. Shanoa eventually turned to ask Laura a question and was surprised to find her absent. The warrior made a quick scan of the square and saw Laura speaking to Marcel in an empty corner. The journalist had a satisfied grin on his face while Laura was not at all amused.

_What are they talking about?_

"May I have your attention please!" The trio turned in the direction of Father Nikolai's voice. He stood in the middle of the makeshift stage as he addressed the small crowd. "I'd like to thank all of you for coming this evening. I have been informed that the actors are ready to begin their performance so if everyone could please find a seat we can get started."

Laura made her way back to Shanoa's side. The sour expression on the jeweler's face dissipated once she had put distance between herself and Marcel. Shanoa was about to ask what had upset her friend, but she was distracted by the frantic wave of Serge's hands. The young siblings had claimed one of the benches in the front row and beckoned for the women to join them. Irina was slumped back against the far end of the bench. The baker's head lolled forward a bit and she appeared to have dozed off. The children scooted closer to their mother to make room for Shanoa and Laura.

"I'll sit on the end just in case Irina happens to wake up and has a fit," Laura said as they took the offered seats. Serge glowed with excitement as Shanoa sat down next to him.

"What do you think they're going to perform?" he asked the warrior. Shanoa could only shrug in response.

"I don't know. I haven't seen a lot of plays."

"How come?"

"It was against the rules," Shanoa said solemnly. Any further questions that Serge may have had were interrupted by the sound of George's violin. The three actors bounded onstage to enthusiastic applause. One of them manipulated the ball of light that swirled above their heads to focus its rays upon the stage before they began their performance.

Due to the limited number of performers the actors did not stick to any one play. Instead they hopped between various scenes taken from popular comedies. Before each new scene they provided a brief synopsis of the play up until that point and introduced their characters.

While Shanoa had not seen many plays performed onstage she had read quite a few scripts. Ecclesia, as a general rule, frowned upon the performing arts for unspecified reasons, but the Order's lust for collecting knowledge lent to a huge collection of supposedly "tainted" plays in the fortress' archives. Shanoa had developed a habit of sneaking manuscripts from the library, including these forbidden plays. It was a mischievous tendency that Albus had encouraged, and once she was allowed to venture into the outside world he had made sure to take her to a few theatrical performances in secret.

A staging of Dante's _Inferno_ was the first play she ever saw. It was unlike anything Shanoa had experienced before. She had read the entirety of _The Divine Comedy_, but it took her breath away to see it come to life onstage. It was one thing to imagine the levels of Hell, yet there they were in front of her: the eternal race, rivers of misery, and the damned trapped forever in ice. For the duration of the performance the text had become reality. Shanoa had been entranced, and in experiencing that feeling she understood why Ecclesia sought to suppress theater's magical effects.

The actors she watched that night put on quite a different show. Instead they played the crowd for laughs. Shanoa had read many of the plays they featured: _The School for Scandal_, _Twelfth Night_, and they even performed an excerpt from _Lysistrata_. Serge and Anna were often confused by the suggestive content of the scenes, but the actors' dramatic expressions humored them in lieu of proper understanding.

As the show continued Shanoa found her attention drawn away from the actors in front of her. Her eyes wandered about the audience; their faces lit up with joy and laughter rang through the air. Knowledge blossomed within the warrior as she watched these familiar faces glow with happiness, and it at last dawned on her just how wrong she'd been.

She was Ecclesia's Blade; a weapon that – despite their intentions – had banished untold evils. She was the morning sun, but neither of those titles defined her. They were both meaningless without the support of actions, and Shanoa finally understood what Laura had been trying to tell her for half a year.

When Shanoa had first stepped foot in Wygol it was empty and barren. Even after she'd freed all the villagers from Albus' prisons there was an echo within the small town, but now it was bursting with life and purpose.

_I did this._

Nothing had obligated her to help these people, but even in her apathetic state Shanoa had wished to lend her aide. She saw their empty hearts and she wanted to save them from a unique anguish that she knew all too well.

_And Albus…_

Albus hadn't loved her just because she was his sister. He had loved her because of who she was at heart. Perhaps he had made it necessary for her to free the villagers in an attempt to rekindle the love that lay dormant inside of her. Because he knew that she could not ignore their silent cries for help.

Shanoa didn't notice that she had begun to cry until Laura placed a hand on her knee.

"Are you all right?" her friend asked. Shanoa nodded as she wiped away the moisture on her cheeks.

"These tears are different," she said with a smile. Laura took one look at that smile and understood.

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> not much to say about this chapter. I had to make some alterations to maintain the third person subjective style I've used throughout the rest of this story. The original version contained a brief conversation between Marcel and Laura, but I edited it out as we're inside Shanoa's head this chapter and she wouldn't be privy to it. The conversation has been moved to a later chapter, though there have been significant changes. I will point them out at the relevant time.


	8. Exodus

Chapter Eight

_Exodus_

"Where does your mother live?" Shanoa asked as she stared at the expansive map that almost took up the entirety of Laura's kitchen table. Father Nikolai had lent it to the women so that they could plot their route through the mountain country. Shanoa was quite familiar with the area to the east of Wygol. Her pursuit of Albus had often taken her in that direction, but Laura had informed her that their destination was to the west. The jeweler pointed to a tiny dot on the map.

"In a village called Baia. It's a little more than twice the size of Wygol, but that's not saying much," she said. Shanoa tried to measure the distance between the two villages.

"How far away is it?" the warrior asked as she scanned the map for a scale.

"Somewhere in the realm of eighty-five kilometers; we should be able to make the trek in less than a week if we stick to the mountain paths." Shanoa ran her finger along the northern road out of Wygol and followed it as it snaked to the west. She paused when the path intersected with a large body of water. "That is lake Colibița," Laura said. "We'll be able to catch a ferry across it so we don't have to walk around." The path resumed on the other side of the lake and the rest of the journey was straightforward from there.

"Not a lot of people live in this region." Shanoa noted the lack of villages along the route.

"It's pretty secluded, which probably made it an ideal location for Ecclesia's base. There aren't many locals around to ask questions." Laura winced at her candid comment. "I'm sorry, Shanoa, I-"

"We weren't completely isolated," the warrior said in an attempt to dismiss Laura's concerns over her manners. "Once an acolyte was old enough they were allowed to venture outside the fortress. Albus and I frequented Bistrița for a time, but beyond that I haven't seen much of human civilization."

"I'm afraid that's not going to change on this journey. We'll only be passing through the two villages on either side of Colibița," Laura said with a slight frown.

"I don't mind. It's not as if I want to thrust myself into the heart of a big city right now. It just never really occurred to me how small my world is. I didn't even know this lake was here." The warrior trailed off as she stared at the large body of water.

"But now you're free to discover the world for yourself," the jeweler said with an encouraging smile. "Now there's no secretive Order dictating every aspect of your life."

"I'm almost free." Shanoa glanced down at her abdomen. "Perhaps once this brand is removed I'll feel that sense freedom."

"I think Albus would be proud to see you now." Laura's smile widened. "You're taking charge of your own life."

"I know he would." Shanoa nodded in agreement and sniffed as a single tear ran down her cheek. She wiped away the droplet with her hand. "It's starting to get easier to think about him; to say his name and not feel such intense sorrow and regret. It still hurts, but not as much as before."

"The hurt doesn't ever go away completely, but you learn how to carry on without them," Laura said. "When you've lost someone you love you should try to remember them fondly. More specifically, to remember them how they'd want you to." The warrior pondered her words.

"Albus would want me to remember the times he made me smile." Shanoa's lips curved upwards for a moment before another thought made its way to the forefront of her mind. "But it's different when I think about Barlowe. All I can feel for him is a mixture of hatred and pity. I know that basic morality dictates that we should forgive those who have wronged us, but the scars that Barlowe gave me run deep. He took so much from Albus and I, and I can't forgive him for that." She balled her hands into tight fists. "He would have rejoiced over my death, and he had been anticipating my sacrifice ever since I was a child. I looked up to him, trusted him, but ultimately I was nothing more than a tool to the man; a means to an end."

"Be careful how you deal with that pain," Laura said. There was a surprising amount of familiarity in her tone. Shanoa's eyes flicked up to meet the jeweler's.

"What do you mean?"

"Because depending on how you address that hatred it has the potential to fester into something… monstrous." Laura turned away from her friend and fixated on an indistinct point on the far wall. "That kind of pain can spend years buried deep within you, waiting, before it resurfaces with a vengeance. And if it does then that hatred will rip your entire life apart."

Laura's words left Shanoa speechless. She simply stared at the jeweler's troubled expression. There was something there that the warrior hadn't seen before. A hidden breed of pain that was different from what Laura had admitted when she recounted Jonathan's tragic suicide. That pain had been born of regret, but the pain she saw in Laura now was violent in nature. She saw the hatred in Laura's eyes; it burned with a fire as fervent as that which fueled her efforts to save Shanoa's soul.

But where did such intense hatred come from?

_I want to know who you are._ The wish sparked a surge of determination in Shanoa's chest. She had bared her soul to this woman, but she knew next to nothing about Laura's own life.

"Why did you come to Wygol?" Shanoa asked the question that had bothered her for some time. Laura's eyes flicked briefly back to the warrior.

"What prompted that question?"

"Wygol is not what I'd call an ideal place to live." The words flowed from Shanoa with surprising ease. "It's a small village isolated in the midst of the rugged Carpathian wilderness. At most it receives a few visitors, and it's far away from your family. I could infer from what Eugen told me that you came to this village by yourself. So I'm left wondering why someone like you – who is quite talented and well-read – would voluntarily keep herself hidden in such a remote village." Shanoa saw her honesty chip away at Laura's outer shell, and it made the warrior both excited and terrified. "Did something happen-?"

"Stop." There was an unexpected hard edge to Laura's voice. A strange emotion had overtaken the jeweler's eyes and Shanoa realized that she had seen it before. It was the indecipherable look that had arisen the other morning in response to Shanoa's question.

"… _You're a worthwhile friend to have. Why would anyone want to push you away?" Shanoa asked. The jeweler stiffened and for a moment there was an indiscernible look in her eyes. It was a strange glint that caused something to twist inside Shanoa's chest._

She had never seen anything like it before. Perhaps she'd have better luck if she had a more thorough understanding of emotions in general, but that had never been Shanoa's forte. A tense silence hung in the air between them as Laura continued to stare at the wall; her expression contorted by what remained unknown.

"I came to Wygol for childish reasons," Laura said slowly. "I was angry and desperate." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And a complete fool." Shanoa trembled and she glowered at the map. Her frustration with Laura's vague and dodgy response roiled inside her chest.

"I just," she said with a frown. "You know so much about me. You know about who I am, what I've done, and what molded me into the person standing in front of you right now. I just wish you felt comfortable enough to do the same. Because I want to know more about you – about who Laura is – and I keep getting small glimpses of her, but never a full picture." Shanoa sighed, the hurt evident in her exhale. "I thought friends were supposed to share these things with each other." Laura made a pained sound and winced at the implication in Shanoa's words.

"It's not that…" The jeweler's mouth worked silently for a few moments as she stumbled over her words. "I am…" Shanoa's eyes drifted back up to Laura's face. The jeweler appeared to sense that she was being watched and forced herself to turn her head in the younger woman's direction, but her eyes remained downcast. "There are just some things that I can't say, even if I might want to."

"I trust you with my weakness. I just wish you'd trust me with yours." Shanoa surprised herself with the boldness of her words, but it felt like the right thing to say. She had always been better with honesty rather than deceit, and something told her that honesty would be a boon in this. The statement at last caused Laura to look directly at her. The jeweler's amber eyes were wide with a strange mixture of shock, conflict, and that unknown element.

"I don't mean-!" Laura's lower lip trembled and her expression melted away until there was only shame left in her face. "I'm not trying to shut you out. There are just some things that I can't tell anyone. That I can't even whisper out loud to myself when I'm alone. I came to Wygol on a fool's errand, and I want to leave that shameful wish in the past. If you want to know about me – about my life – I'll tell you what I can. I owe you that much, but I can't tell you about _that_."

Shanoa's jaw clenched as she studied the jeweler. Her words made Shanoa's curiosity burn stronger than ever, but Laura's pain was evident. Something that Albus had said when they were teenagers echoed in the back of her mind. It was a piece of advice he had given her on interacting with humans in general.

"_Be careful, Shanoa, people are the most complicated creatures in the world, and your best intentions don't always line up with what someone else needs."_

"All right." The warrior sighed as she accepted the wisdom of her brother's words. "I'll avoid the subject."

"Thank you," Laura said with a mixture of relief and regret. She leaned over the map again, but the tension was still coiled within the jeweler's shoulders. "I don't do a lot of traveling so we're going to have to buy some supplies from Jacob. We'll take inventory to figure out what I already have."

Laura's words were tuned out as Shanoa's attention remained focused on analyzing the jeweler's body language. It dawned on her that Laura was terrified of whatever lay at the heart of why she came to Wygol. There was something ugly in her past, and it was vicious enough to cause the usually stalwart woman to quake at its memory.

Shanoa could only wonder why her friend did not heed her own advice. Laura was emphatic to help the warrior face her own demons, but displayed a staunch reluctance to do the same.

_So what makes you the exception?_

IXI

The women were able to complete most of their shopping by mid-afternoon. They had decided to travel as light as possible and though Laura was lacking in supplies they were able to find what they needed at Jacob's general store. Their newly purchased trail rations would be enough to last them more than the projected week of hiking, but a thought occurred to Shanoa as Laura counted her remaining gold.

"Do you have a bow?" the warrior asked. Laura hesitated for a moment before she shook her head.

"No, why do you ask?"

"I just thought it would be handy in case I need to do some hunting. Under normal circumstances I'd just use Melio Arcus, but that's not an option anymore."

"I'll see if Eugen has anything in stock. I was just about to head there now to buy a hunting knife." The jeweler inclined her head towards her friend's arms. "You should go see Abram about those stitches."

"Right, I'll meet you back at the house when I'm done." The women parted and Shanoa made her way around the side of the general store to the healer's ramshackle stand.

A strange sight greeted her when Abram came into view. He knelt in front of his stall with a paint bucket held in one hand and a wet brush in the other. She could hear him muttering to himself as he made erratic, sweeping strokes across the two posted signs that declared his human-only patient policy. The words were obscured beneath the new layer of paint. Shanoa approached him with caution.

"Abram?" she asked in a soft voice. Abram made a sound akin to a whimper, but continued to paint. The warrior gulped before she attempted to engage him again. "What's wrong with the signs?"

"BAH!" The sheer volume of his voice caused Shanoa to jump back. It was louder than usual, even by Abram's standards. "Father Nikolai thinks they sound too _paranoid_! He thinks that my noble attempt to keep monsters out of Wygol isn't helping my recovery!"

"Your recovery?" Shanoa was confused for a moment before she recalled what he was talking about. "You mean from this famous 'incident' you keep referring to?"

"HA! Recovery! And they call ME the fool!" Abram continued without any indication that he had even heard Shanoa. "Ah yes, Abram, the fool without a brain!"

"I haven't heard anyone-"

"THEY ALL think it! I know they do!" He accented his words with powerful brush strokes. "It's obvious from their constant avoidance and sidelong glances and hushed whispers! No one ever ASKS me HOW I'm doing! No one ever bothers to ask 'Abram, might you be saner than people give you credit for?' OF COURSE NOT! THAT WOULD BE TOO MUCH! I wouldn't be an effective healer if I had a completely broken mind, but of course all anyone talks about is the incident! Abram and his incident!" Shanoa remained silent as he lashed out at the wooden signs. After a few moments his rage seemed to subside a bit and Abram heaved from exertion.

"Abram, what exactly happened?" Shanoa ventured to ask in a tone that she hoped was perceived as non-confrontational. Abram at last turned to face her. His eyes were wide as he was struck by the sudden realization that she was ignorant on the matter.

"Ah, yes, you do not know about the incident. You were not here. You did not _see_. You see the effects, but not the cause!" He made a sweeping indication of his lackluster workspace. "This wasn't always here. The ground itself, yes, but I had a different stand once. Now thanks to the INCIDENT it's gone. Worse, I am FORBIDDEN to experiment!"

"Experiment?" Shanoa did not like the implications of the word.

"Yes, experiment, scientific endeavors, call it what you will. How do you think I became so well-versed a healer? I EXPERIMENTED! I dallied about in the unknown to test which ingredients would heal and which would, ah, not." Abram sighed and shook his head. "And then there was the 'incident'. It was TWO things at once: a mixture gone wrong, and yet not wrong at all! It showed me the flaw in my theory, but how was I supposed to know that the subject would combust? If I had known that then I wouldn't have had to do the test in the FIRST PLACE!"

"The… subject?" Shanoa swallowed. "Did you experiment on a person?" Abram gasped and shook his head vehemently at the accusation.

"DEAR GOD WOMAN, WHAT KIND OF MAN DO YOU THINK I AM? It was a stray cat!" He paused and scratched his chin. "Or perhaps it wasn't, considering the fuss that followed. I never cared too much to find out. That's the thing: you never get attached to the subject. If that happens then you don't want to do the tests on them and then you have to find an entirely new subject! It's quite a bother. In any case the combination of the mixture had some volatile properties and the cat EXPLODED in my hands!" Abram dropped the bucket and brush to show Shanoa his open palms. She hissed when she saw the scars left behind from severe burns. How had she not seen them before?

"My God…"

"EXACTLY!" Abram nodded. "And it wasn't just my hands that caught on fire! My poor stand… it had a ROOF, Shanoa! It went up like a tinder-box! Then my clothes caught fire too, and naturally I decided that saving MYSELF was more important than saving my stand. So I ran outside and started rolling around on the ground to try and put out the flames. That's how they found me: screaming and covered in dirt while my place of business burned to a crisp in the background!" Shanoa envisioned the scene and suppressed a smirk at the mental image of Abram flailing on the ground. The healer saw the flicker of amusement in her eyes, however.

"DON'T LAUGH!" He pointed an accusing finger at her. "DON'T YOU DARE LAUGH!"

"I'm sorry; it's not funny at all." She reigned in her inappropriate mirth.

"It was awful, Shanoa! Once they managed to put the fire out everyone began to hate me. They yelled at me for weeks! Nikolai STILL yells at me! Well, rather he scolds me." Abram frowned. "I admit, I've always been a bit _eccentric_, but try eating some poisonous berries when YOU'RE a child and see how well YOU turn out! I at least SURVIVED! Most of these sorry bastards would have died from the amount of poison I ingested that day, but even back then I was a genius! I crafted an antidote and showed those berries just WHO they tried to kill! Trial and error, Shanoa; it is the key to success. I did it with the berries and I did it with the cat and it has ALWAYS led to more knowledge, but I can't experiment anymore! Because they say that the 'side effects are too severe'. You know what's even more severe than an exploded cat? AN EXPLODED HUMAN BEING!" He balled his fists in rage and punched the side of his stand. Shanoa started as his knuckles made contact with the wood, but Abram didn't display any signs of pain. "IDIOTS! All of them!"

"Have you tried telling Father Nikolai this?" she asked. Abram scoffed at the question.

"Of course, but do they listen to me? NO! I'm sane enough to HEAL them, but not sane enough to be taken seriously!" He leaned his weight against his fist.

"Well, for what it's worth." Shanoa reached out and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. He tensed at the touch, but did not withdraw. She was unsure if her gesture was appropriate given the situation. It was another social custom that she'd have to learn. "_I'm_ taking you seriously."

Abram sighed and stared at his white knuckles. Shanoa pulled her hand away after a moment. She fidgeted in the silence, unsure of whether or not she had done something wrong. Before she could ask the healer perked upright. He turned towards the warrior with his signature crooked grin plastered across his face.

"Enough of this sad reminiscing! WHAT does my favorite customer need today?" Abram's sudden shift puzzled her, but Shanoa held out her arms. "Ah, yes! It's time for the thread to come out!"

It didn't take long for Abram to remove the stitches. His work was quick and efficient. Only a few minutes passed before he stepped back with a satisfactory grin. Shanoa moved to rub her arms on instinct, but stopped when the healer gave her a reprimanding look.

"I should probably tell you that Laura and I are going to be leaving town tomorrow," she said. Abram physically reeled at the news.

"YOU'RE LEAVING?"

"Just to see someone who can help remove the brand."

"I remember." Abram nodded and glanced down at her abdomen. "I must admit that those marks are beyond my ability to heal." He met her gaze with an almost meek expression. "But you WILL be back, right?"

"Of course." Shanoa smiled at him. Abram studied her face for a long moment before he threw up his hands in defeat.

"Just be careful and try not to get into any fights while you're out there. God knows whenever you leave Wygol you always come back a bloody mess."

"This excursion will be different," she said. "For the first time I'm not heading off into battle."

IXI

Laura was relieved to find Eugen in his shop rather than slaving away in the forge. The blacksmith had greeted her in his usual gruff manner and didn't question her desire to purchase a hunting knife. She leaned over his makeshift counter as Eugen presented her with a number of blades to choose from. Laura studied them for a few minutes, tested the weight and grip of a select few, before she settled on a notched blade. The blacksmith nodded in approval and went in search of its matching sheath.

"Where are you headed?" he asked as he rummaged around in a pile of leather sheaths. The jeweler shot him a confused look. "I doubt you'd buy a knife like this just because the mood struck you."

"We're traveling to a small town northwest of here. There's someone that Shanoa needs to see." Laura kept her response intentionally vague. Eugen nodded, but didn't press her for any further details on the matter. She chewed on her bottom lip as he found the sheath he'd been searching for and slid the blade inside.

"Eugen," she paused in hesitation, "I know this is _very_ unlikely, but do you remember that bow you bought from me about three years ago?"

"Of course, it's hard to forget a weapon like that," he said with approval.

"You probably sold it a long time ago, but if you didn't…" She felt a knot constrict inside her chest. "By some chance do you still have it?" Laura waited with bated breath as Eugen stared at her for a long moment. She could not determine which answer she preferred to hear.

The blacksmith handed her the knife and wove his way through the mess over to a wooden chest in a far corner of the shop. Various pieces of armor had been piled on top of it and Eugen moved them off to the side so he could access the container. The knot in Laura's chest wound tighter as he opened the lid and withdrew a polished black bow. He returned to the table with the weapon in hand.

"I never found someone worthy enough to sell it to," Eugen said as he placed the bow in front of her with care. "This bow has been loved; it's been treated with respect. I couldn't just pass it off to a cheap street vendor or careless hunter. Besides, I had a feeling that one day you might come back for it." The jeweler ran her hand across the gleaming dark surface.

"It's been so long since I've touched a bow." She felt an unwelcome comfort at the once familiar sensation of smooth ash against her palm. Laura tilted her head to the side as she wrestled with a thought. "Eugen… what did you tell Shanoa? About me, that is." The aging blacksmith shrugged.

"I observe, but I'm no gossip. I don't stick my nose where it doesn't belong. I didn't tell her much, just what I've noted over the course of a few years."

"And what would that be?"

"That you're still very young," he said in a flat, even voice. The jeweler gave him a disapproving look.

"That's all?" she asked, but Eugen didn't so much as flinch at her accusing tone.

"It's more than enough." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"And does that include matters of my heart?"

"I just told her what she needed to hear." Laura narrowed her eyes and glared at him for a few moments, but the blacksmith's expression remained rigid. She sighed in defeat.

"You're not going to tell me what you said, are you?"

"Whatever happens between you two is your own business. If Shanoa wants to tell you about our conversation then that's her decision. I've already said my piece," he stated with finality. Laura frowned and dropped her gaze back to the weapon that rested against her palm.

"A bow isn't much good without arrows," she said. Eugen made a sound of agreement and went to go find some amongst his carnage.

Laura's jaw clenched as she stared at the bow. Why had she asked about it? She had sold the damn thing to get it out of her life, but she could never forget this weapon and everything that came with it. It was almost fitting to take it back to Baia with her; a sort of sick joke that the universe had concocted.

So why had she asked? Did some part of her actually believe in what she was supposed to be? Did some part of her yearn for it?

_Why can't I bury you?_

Laura doubted that she would ever escape the bow's reach. In one way or another, it always came back to her.

IXI

They were awake by the time the first ray of sunlight glimmered on the horizon. The pair was intent to cover as much ground as possible during the ever-shortening autumn days. They had made arrangements with Father Nikolai the night before and he agreed to both take care of Brutus while they were gone and inform the rest of the villagers of their departure. Shanoa wished to avoid any kind of emotional scene when they left. It would just be an unnecessary complication, and she was not sure how she'd react.

Laura's choice of outfit had surprised the warrior at first. She wore a pale green dress with the skirt cut just below her thigh. Her feet and shins were covered by knee-high leather boots. A dark sash had been tied around her waist. Shanoa failed to see the purpose of this accessory, but did not comment on it. The warrior herself wore her new dark blue dress and the familiar breastplate of hardened leather. She was accustomed to traveling in the outfit by now. It was one of the few things about her that hadn't changed in the past month.

Both women had packs slung across their backs. They were quite light and would not slow them down. Shanoa tied the sheath for the hunting knife to her waist while Laura kept a separate small dagger stored in a pocket of her pack.

"There's just one more thing," Laura said once they had finished their final inventory check. The jeweler disappeared into the adjoining shop for a moment and returned with a black bow, a harness, and a quiver full of arrows. She held them out to the warrior. "Ask and you shall receive." Shanoa took the bow from her and turned it over in her hands to inspect the weapon from different angles.

"It's beautiful," she said. "Eugen is a master of his craft."

"He didn't make it," Laura said just loud enough for Shanoa to hear. The warrior gave her a quizzical look.

"How do you know?"

"That bow is a family heirloom. I don't know who made it, but the weapon is older than Eugen."

"It's yours?" Shanoa's eyes widened in surprise. "I would never have guessed. Are you sure you want to give it to me? It doesn't feel right that I should be the one to carry something so precious, especially since I'm not a member of your family."

"I'm not capable of wielding that bow," Laura said without a hint of regret in her voice. "Besides, it's just a temporary loan. You'll only be using it to hunt game." Shanoa nodded and accepted the gift. She found no real reason to refuse. She strapped the bow and quiver into the leather harness and took a few moments to adjust her pack so as to allow for the additional gear.

They left the house and Laura locked the deadbolt behind them. The air was chill and damp; it mirrored the atmosphere that had greeted Shanoa that fateful morning she returned to Wygol. Hardly more than a week had passed, but it felt like an age. So much had changed, and as they passed the wood and brick houses, their windows frosted from the cold autumn night, Shanoa couldn't help but smile. This small, quiet village had become her home. In the midst of grief and carnage she had found something that truly mattered. More than that – she glanced at Laura – she had found companionship.

The pair reached the northern path out of Wygol in contemplative silence. An unexpected cry from behind gave the women paused and they turned to see Serge, Anna, and Tom dash towards them. The slap of their bare feet against the cobblestones echoed in the silent morning air. Laura made a surprised noise as the young trio approached.

"How did you know?" she asked when they reached the women. The children skidded to a halt and their chests heaved as they panted.

"Anna had a dream!" Serge said in-between breaths. "You can't leave without saying goodbye!"

"You'll be back, right?" Anna's voice trembled as her eyes flicked back and forth from Shanoa to Laura. "You're not leaving forever, are you?"

"Of course not! We'd never do something so horrible!" Laura said, but the siblings didn't seem convinced. They continued to shake with fear at the prospect that this would be the last they saw of both women. Shanoa was determined to banish that fear. She knelt down so she could be at eye level with the children.

"Have I ever lied to you?" she asked with a warm, confident smile. The siblings shook their heads in unison. "And you know that I never break a promise?" They nodded and Shanoa's smile widened. "I promise that we'll come back. I was hurt in battle, but the wound is not something that Abram knows how to heal. We're going to see someone who can fix it, and once I'm better we'll return. Because Wygol isn't just your home; it's ours too."

The fear drained from their faces at her promise. The siblings glanced at each other and something unspoken passed between them. Without warning they flung themselves at Shanoa and hugged her tightly. The warrior was startled, but joy quickly overtook her initial surprise and she wrapped her arms around the pair. Serge and Anna clung to her for a while before they reluctantly let go. As one they ran to Laura and the jeweler met them with another eager hug.

"You two have to go home before your mother wakes up and finds you missing," Laura said as she held the children in her embrace. They pulled away, but Anna had one last request.

"Can we watch you go?"

Tom made a noise that sounded like a whine and Serge sniffed. It almost appeared as if the boy was going to cry. Shanoa gave Laura a beseeching look and the jeweler caved.

"Why not?"

They waved to the trio as they started out along the mountain path. Shanoa continued to look back at the children until distance and overhanging foliage obscured her sight. They were so young and innocent.

"We were like that once," Shanoa said as they neared the first bend in the road.

"You and Albus?" Laura paused to envision miniature versions of the warrior and her brother. "I can see it."

"I was referring to you, too."

Laura gave her a weak smile, but did not appear to share the sentiment.

IXI

She remained frozen in place as she watched the women depart from the small village. The leaves of the tall tree swayed about her, but she had a clear view of the dirt road below. Her hooded brown cloak did more than protect her skin from the cruel sunlight; it helped her melt into the bark of the tree.

Her prey was ignorant of her presence. Shanoa didn't even glance skyward when they passed beneath her. If the ring did not sap her emotions she would have felt overwhelming disappointment. The Blade was dull. She could not extract proper penance while Shanoa was in this state: robbed of both Glyphs and a fervent purpose.

Her purple irises flicked to the vain woman. There was, however, something else at play; a component that could be quite helpful to her end goal if utilized effectively.

The ouroboros blessed her with infinite patience, but she was never one to squander opportunity.

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes: <strong>I snipped an uncharacteristic mood-swing at the end of the first scene. My writing also got sloppy near the end of the chapter and I had to clean it up quite a bit. It reads much better now.

English pronouns are a constant pain in my ass. Especially when there's multiple characters of the same gender in a scene and I intend to leave one of them unnamed. It can get confusing real quick.

For some reason I kept forgetting about the leather breast piece that's present in Shanoa's character design. I think it's become synonymous with her blue dress in my mind so I treat them as one piece of clothing when in actuality they're two separate things. I've made it a point to more consistently mention the breast piece's existence in this re-write.


	9. Scenic Reminiscing

Chapter Nine

_Scenic Reminiscing_

They progressed in silence as Wygol village fell farther and farther behind them. Shanoa took the time to marvel at the vibrant forest that surrounded the path. The constant threat of monsters, ambush, and the absence of emotion had rendered her blind to the sheer beauty of the Carpathians as she scoured the countryside in pursuit of Albus. Now that Dracula was defeated, and the dimensional tears caused by his influence mended, she could take in the sights without having to steel herself for the possibility that a demon crouched behind every bush.

Most of the trees bore their signature autumn colors. A few stray green leaves remained intermixed with the brilliant yellows, oranges, reds, and purples. Leaves in varying stages of decomposition had fallen across the road and crunched beneath their feet as the women walked. After a while Laura gave Shanoa a light nudge and the warrior turned to look at her friend. The older woman smiled at her.

"I have a proposition for you," she said. "An exchange of life stories, if you will. I'll ask you a question about yourself and then you can ask me one and so on and so forth." Shanoa raised a dark eyebrow at her.

"I didn't know you were so eager for serious conversation. We've hardly been on the road for half an hour," she made an attempt at a lighthearted tease. Laura's laughter indicated that she had been successful.

"I've had to grapple with your stubborn emotional vacancy and life of secrecy for more than six months now. Since we've finally made some progress on both fronts I'm going to take full advantage of this opportunity. Out here we don't have to worry about constant distractions." The jeweler preened. "So what do you say: is the Blade up for this challenge?"

A plethora of questions welled up inside of the warrior at this open invitation. She wondered if Laura realized how secretive her own life was. Still, Shanoa was unsure of how deep the jeweler wished to dig so soon on their journey. She decided it would be best for Laura to set the pace.

"All right," Shanoa said with a grin. "Since you're so eager I'll give you the luxury of going first."

"You spoil me." Laura finished with a chuckle; the sound of her voice held a melodious timber. "I've always been curious about the relationship between you and Albus. Though I understand if that breeches some dangerous territory for you."

"No, I think it might be good to talk about who he was before all this mess began," Shanoa said despite the twinge of pain in her chest. "After all, that's how he'd want me to remember him."

"He wasn't your brother by blood, correct?"

"That's right."

"So what exactly made you two siblings? You didn't share parents, either biological or adopted." Laura paused. "At least, that's what I've gleaned from what you've told me."

Shanoa mulled over how to respond to the inquiry. It was not a subject that she had ever needed to explain before. Everyone within the Order understood the nature of their bond and no one in the outside world had ever questioned it.

"There's no simple way to answer that," she said with a frown. "The best place to start would be to explain the nature of Ecclesia's members. Albus and I are both orphans, and that was an oddity. There were other children raised within the Order, but all of them were the direct offspring of older acolytes. We were the only children brought in from outside."

"Brought in by whom?" Laura asked, but Shanoa could only shrug.

"I don't know." The warrior's frown deepened. "But it made us outcasts within an Order comprised of outcasts. It was a point of concern for Barlowe and some of the other elders, so they arranged a solution to our alienation…

_Shanoa hung her head as she waited for Barlowe to begin the ritual. On occasion the eight-year-old's eyes would flick up to glance at the older boy in front of her, but the blue orbs never lingered on his face for more than a couple seconds. She had seen him a few times before, yet was never inclined to speak to him. The brown-haired boy was intimidating. He had the look of someone driven by a powerful force, and Shanoa's shy nature made her too nervous to speak to even the most docile of Ecclesia's members without encouragement._

_The children stood face to face in the middle of a large, circular sanctuary. The domed ceiling was lined with windows and allowed rays of bright sunlight to stream through. The colorful tile beneath their feet depicted a strange design: a serpent twisted into an intricate knot before it joined in the center to devour its own tail._

"_Hold out your right hand," Barlowe said. The children did as instructed and the elder adjusted them so that Shanoa's open palm rested on top of the boy's. Barlowe then wove a bright red cloth around their joined hands and secured it with a knot. Shanoa chewed on her bottom lip as the elder recited something in Latin. She recognized a few stray words, but could not deduce the overall context. Eventually Barlowe fell silent and his eyes shifted back and forth between the two children._

"_Through this binding you two will become siblings," he said, dropping the Latin. "A family no different than those bound by shared blood. Do you understand?" The boy nodded. Shanoa tugged a bit on her restrained right hand, but nodded in turn. Barlowe made a satisfied sound and turned to the boy._

"_Will you love and protect your sister as a brother should?" he asked in an authoritative tone. The boy gulped and nodded again. Barlowe then turned to Shanoa. "Will you love and support your brother as a sister should?" The girl trembled at the demand in his voice, but she did not want to disappoint Barlowe. She was stronger than this. Shanoa closed her eyes and nodded._

"_So be it," Barlowe said with an air of finality. "From this day forth all of Ecclesia shall recognize you as kin." He untied the red cloth and both children pulled their hands away. Shanoa's face flushed red and she stood with her head down, unsure of what to do or say. The strange boy was her brother now, but she had no idea how to treat a brother. She didn't even know what to call him._

"_What's your name?" she asked in a voice that was no louder than a whisper._

"_My name's Albus." He scratched at the base of his neck. "I guess we're brother and sister now." Shanoa nodded in agreement and looked away. He was so much bigger than her. "And yours?" Her head shot up at his question._

"_Sh-Shanoa," she stuttered. Albus winced at her pained reply._

"_Well, um…" He muttered something under his breath. A loud bell clanged high above them and saved the pair from further awkward interaction. Barlowe clapped his hands and pushed the children towards the door._

"_I didn't realize it was so close to lunch time." The old man clicked his tongue. "Now that you're family you'll be assigned to eat at the same table. It will be an excellent opportunity for the two of you to bond." _

_IXI_

_The children remained silent as they sat across from each other at the small, polished wood table. The large and rather imposing dining hall was decorated in the same lavish style as the rest of the fortress. Whoever had built the massive bastion had done an accurate job of re-creating the style of gothic architecture that was prevalent among Church cathedrals. The hall's high, arched ceiling was flanked on either side by gargantuan glass windows decorated with twisted iron and stained glass images that depicted scenes of epic battles. The floor tiles were made of gray and white marble; the walls paneled with bright slabs of wood. Stone statues of angels and demons stood as unmoving sentries in the gaps between the windows. The supernatural beings watched over the acolytes as they ate and engaged in polite conversation._

_Members of the Order were assigned to eat at pre-designated family tables, but Shanoa – being an orphan – was an exception to the rule. She was allowed to squeeze into whatever open seat she could find, and most did not complain about her presence due to her quiet demeanor. The exclusion had bothered her, though, and she was thrilled to at last have a proper place to sit. Even if her companion was a boy she didn't know._

_Shanoa looked up at Albus. He grimaced as he poked at the chunks of potato in his stew with a silver spoon. He seemed to sense her gaze and lifted his eyes to glance at her. Shanoa quickly turned her attention back to her own stew. The pair avoided eye contact as the girl ate her food in silence. Albus made no move to eat his own meal, and it spurred Shanoa to comment._

"_You know, you should probably eat something," she said. Albus' eyes widened in surprise, but he shook his head._

"_I don't like beef stew." He frowned. Shanoa blushed in embarrassment and mouthed something that was meant to be an apology. Albus shifted in his seat at her obvious discomfort before he groaned in defeat. He dipped his spoon into the stew and forced down a mouthful. "So, what's your story?" he asked after a few bites. Shanoa looked at him in confusion. "Why don't you have a family?"_

"_Master Barlowe says that we're family now," she said. Albus rolled his eyes._

"_Yeah, but I'm talking about before that; before all this." Albus indicated the fortress around them. "We're the same, you know, neither one of us were born here. Something happened to our real families, so what happened to yours?"_

"_I don't know. I don't remember anything about them."_

"_Have you ever asked?"_

"_I tried to once, but Master Barlowe said that I don't need to know who they were." She attempted to hide the hurt in her voice, but failed. "I'm a member of Ecclesia now, and that's enough for me."_

"_I'd want to know regardless," Albus said before he shoved another spoonful of stew into his mouth. They fell silent again as they resumed eating. Shanoa finished her meal before her new brother and she studied Albus as he struggled to swallow each bite._

"_Do you remember your family?" she asked at length. The boy burped and nodded._

"_A bit, but they weren't the nicest people. All of them were criminals of some sort. My memories of them are hazy, and I'm not sure how or why I ended up here. I remember a fight, I remember some people in robes, but that's it. All I know for sure is that the rest of my family is dead."_

"_I'm sorry," she said. Albus grinned at her._

"_It's fine. I mean, at least I know where I come from."_

"_I guess…" Shanoa's face fell. Barlowe had assured her that her lineage wasn't important, but she still wished to know who her parents were. She was jealous of Albus; at least he had some solid answers. The boy seemed displeased with his sister's sullen expression._

"_Do you know any card games?" he asked at random. Shanoa looked at him in shock._

"_Of course not! They aren't allowed!"_

"_No, playing card games is allowed. It's betting on cards that isn't." Albus shot her a mischievous grin. "I know a lot of games that don't require bets."_

"_I…" She didn't know how to respond. She knew what a proper acolyte would say, but was that what she wanted?_

"_I can teach you how to play."_

"_But if we get caught…" _

"_We won't," Albus said. "I know a great hiding place underneath one of the staircases. No one else knows about it; not even the other kids." Shanoa continued to frown in spite of his confidence. She did want to learn how to play, but was it worth the risk? She had seen Master Barlowe angry before, and she never wanted to have that anger turned upon her. He became a different person when he was angry: ferocious and untamed._

"_Hey, don't look so sad, I'm your big brother now." Albus gave her a reassuring smile. "It's my job to make sure you don't get into any trouble, and as long as I'm around I'll do everything in my power to protect you." The promise was a sincere one, and he seemed so confident in his ability to keep it. Shanoa felt her fears begin to fall away as she realized that she believed him. Perhaps this whole sibling arrangement wouldn't be a bad thing after all. The corners of her mouth twitched and she smiled at him. Albus gawked at the sight._

"_What?" she asked. The smile disappeared from her face as she tried to figure out what she had done wrong. Albus chuckled and reached across the table to ruffle her long black hair._

"_You're adorable when you smile," he said with a grin of his own._

Laura made a delighted sound and her eyes sparkled when she looked at Shanoa. The warrior blushed as Laura beamed at her.

"What?" Her eyes flicked between Laura's enrapt expression and the path in front of them. The sun had fully risen by this point and large rays of sunlight seeped through the canopy leaves.

"You two must have been so precious together!" The jeweler practically squeaked.

"Sure, at least until Albus began to wield an enchanted gun and I learned to cleave monsters in two with ethereal weapons. I wouldn't describe either of those traits as 'precious'." Shanoa's argument did nothing to counteract Laura's glee.

"You grew more lethal, yes, but remained precious all the same," the jeweler said. Shanoa was inclined to protest, but thought better of it. In the end, it wasn't an unpleasant descriptor, just one she rarely – if ever – received.

"Now it's my turn to ask a question." The warrior jumped on the chance to shift the focus of their conversation away from her. "Do you happen to have any siblings?" Laura shook her head.

"No, I'm an only child," she said with a slight frown. "My parents tried to have more children, but for whatever reason they weren't able to conceive after my mother gave birth to me." A hint of melancholy touched the edges of her voice.

"Oh…" Shanoa fidgeted under a sudden influx of awkwardness. She had not anticipated such a response, and she felt like a fool for asking about it. "What sort of people are your parents?" The warrior once again tried to divert the conversation. Laura shot her a wry smile.

"That's two questions in a row. I'd say that counts as cheating."

"I gave a lengthy response to your question," Shanoa said. "I think I've earned the right to ask you more than one, especially if your answers are going to be so short." Laura narrowed her eyes at her friend, but obvious mirth danced in her amber irises.

"My parents are married to their work, and I'd say that sums them up quite nicely," she said. "You already know that my mother is a healer, but my father was the one who taught me my trade."

"Really?"

"Yes, he was a big, burly man, but my father made his living by crafting jewelry for women. It's rather ironic, though it wasn't his only indulgence. And since I was his only child he made it his mission to pass on all his knowledge to me," Laura said with a sneer. Shanoa saw the deep-seeded anger flare up in her friend's expression. Was her father somehow a catalyst behind it? The warrior made a mental note to tread carefully around the subject in the future.

"He started his lessons when I was still a toddler." Laura continued. "I remember sitting on his lap as he worked so I could watch him craft pieces. I learned how to judge a gemstone's quality before I could formulate complete sentences. That was his nature: duty and business came before all else." The jeweler fell silent and stared off down the path.

"Does your father also live in Baia?" Shanoa ventured to ask. Laura hesitated a moment.

"Yes and no."

"What do you mean?" Shanoa gave her a quizzical look. Her friend's expression was unreadable. The anger had subsided, but it seemed to have been replaced with emptiness.

"He's buried there," the jeweler said in an even tone. Shanoa cringed and her cheeks flushed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

"He died in an accident a long time ago. I've finished grieving over him so there's no need to avoid the subject." Laura's voice carried a melancholy sigh that contradicted the assurance dictated by her words. "What about your parents? Were you ever able to learn anything about them?"

"I've searched, of course, but I don't have any leads to go on," Shanoa said as she picked at a stray leaf that had gotten tangled in her long hair. "Albus and I even did some covert digging in Ecclesia's archives, but we never found anything. So either the Order also didn't know who my parents were or they purposefully destroyed any record of their identities." Laura shook her head.

"That's a shame. You could have family out in the world somewhere." Shanoa mulled over her friend's words. While her situation was unfortunate, it evoked more feelings of curiosity from the warrior than outright regret.

"Perhaps," she said. "But I realize now that, in a way, Barlowe was right – as loath as I am to admit it. I do have a family; not one connected by blood, but still just as valuable. I have family in Albus, in everyone in Wygol." The warrior turned to her friend and smiled." And in you, too."

"I'm honored to be a part of your family." Laura returned Shanoa's smile with one of her own. They fell into a comfortable silence once more. The path began to snake upwards as they came to an incline. Shanoa looked up through the leafy canopy and spotted the far off peaks of a group of mountains. From this distance the formations appeared to be a hazy, blue-gray hue. She wondered what gave them that color. Was it something in the air, or perhaps some form of magic at work? It was a phenomenon that she had never taken notice of before, and she wondered what other small details she had overlooked about the world outside of Ecclesia's stone walls.

"Is it my turn again?" the jeweler asked when they reached the crest of the incline.

"Hm?" Shanoa was confused for a moment before she remembered. "Oh, yes, I think so."

"Was Albus always so…?" Laura searched for the right word. "Driven?"

"It was his signature trait," Shanoa said with a fond smile. "Once Albus found something to fight for he was unshakable in his resolve. It was both his most endearing strength and his greatest weakness." Her face fell a bit. "I was always afraid that one day it would get him killed."

"Was he reckless?"

"In a way, but the most important thing to understand about Albus is that he possessed boundless empathy. He would gladly bear the weight of humanity's pain if it meant that people could live without conflict. That conviction was amplified when it came to me." Shanoa shook her head. "Barlowe often said that Albus couldn't tell the difference between his battles and mine. He'd often try to shield me from harm, regardless of whether or not I needed or wanted him to…

_In stark contrast to his sister, Albus did not possess an affinity for Glyphs. He knew how to cast one or two, but was only successful when he channeled the energy through Agartha. Albus had the same difficulty with all schools of magic, yet Glyphs were the most problematic. It was the metaphysical – Albus determined – that his mind had trouble comprehending. He had been able to bind himself to the physical gun with ease, but whenever he attempted to learn a new Glyph the process left him spent and bed-ridden._

_These limitations did not stop Albus from trying to understand and harness the power of Glyphs. He was vehement in his quest to become stronger; to grow into a force that could stand side-by-side with his sister in battle. A few years had passed since her trial and subsequent distinction as Ecclesia's Blade. By now the teenagers knew that the title bore great purpose and even greater responsibility._

_His cause was a virtuous one, but in the name of familial love Albus did some foolish things._

_Shanoa had gone in search of her brother after her daily combat training had concluded. Master Torey was an unforgiving tutor and had subjected her to another round of pain endurance trials. Her bones still throbbed with a pulsing ache. The feeling would most likely persist for a few more hours. A game of Cribbage with Albus would help distract her from the pain, but he was nowhere to be found in Ecclesia's archives. She surmised that Albus was holed up in his room and she made her way through the Hall to the dorms where most of the young acolytes slept. Shanoa stopped in front of Albus' door and knocked._

"_Albus?" she called out to him, but there was no response. She paused and knocked again to no avail._

_Shanoa frowned as she tried to figure out where he could have gone. He did not frequent any other areas of the fortress. She was about to head back to the archives when she heard a loud, sickly cough from the other side of the door._

"_Albus?" She heard another cough followed by a painful retch. Her stomach knotted at the horrid noise and she tried the doorknob. It was unlocked and she pushed the door open._

_Her brother was hunched over on the floor before an open spell book. A faded, half-absorbed Glyph hovered in the air above the pages. Albus' body shook with violent spasms and Shanoa's breath caught when she realized why: he was vomiting blood._

_She crossed the room in a few rapid strides and knelt beside Albus as blood continued to dribble out of his gaping mouth. There was something odd about the red liquid. Shanoa looked at the blood that had pooled on the floor and was shocked to see that it had crystalized. The blood resembled the patterned white frost that clung to windows after a cold night. The failed Glyph absorption was wreaking havoc on Albus' body, and its effects wouldn't stop until the ritual was completed._

_Shanoa raised her arms above her head and called out to the faded Glyph. Her hair twisted and levitated in a familiar dance as the tattoos on her arms and back began to glow. Slowly, she pulled the sigil towards her. The blue light absorbed into the markings on her flesh until there was a bright flash. Shanoa fell forward as the ritual completed. Her head spun as the Glyph's incantation inscribed its knowledge into her memory._

_Its name was Torpor. When invoked it produced exploding shards of ice or could encase enemies in crystalline prisons._

_That explained the state of the blood._

"_Torpor is a cruel thing." Albus groaned and spat out a chunk of red ice. "I felt it… when I failed to absorb the Glyph its effects were triggered, and I lacked a means to control it. The liquids in my body… argh… started to turn to ice…" He clutched his stomach and moaned again in pain. "One day, Shanoa, I will learn…" His hands fisted in the freshly stained cloth of his shirt. "I will find a way to learn."_

_Shanoa made a strangled cry – a sound akin to a wail – and grabbed Albus by his shoulders._

"_You can't keep doing this! You'll destroy yourself!" Her face twisted with a combination of rage, sorrow, and intense fear. "You can find other, less dangerous ways to become stronger. Let me be the one to bear Glyphs; that's my role to fulfill." Albus shook his head and looked at her with a fire in his eyes._

"_What… kind of brother would I be… if I didn't protect you? That's… MY role."_

"_That doesn't make this the right course of action! That doesn't give you a reason to kill yourself while trying to protect me from a duty that I gladly accept!" Albus reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand._

"_You are the Blade, and I must be strong enough to stand at the side of someone as powerful as you. I must be able to defeat any enemy that you might fall prey to. I made a vow, remember? I will not fail to uphold it."_

"_You can't protect me if you're dead!" Shanoa began to cry as she pulled her shivering brother into a tight embrace. "Please stop this! I couldn't bear to lose you because you were acting as my shield. I couldn't live with myself." She failed to bite back a sob. Albus wrapped his arms around his sister._

"_Just as you ask me not to burden myself with the responsibilities of your station, please do not burden yourself with those of mine. If I die protecting you it will not be in vain. And – if that time comes – I will die with no regrets."_

"_Then stop being so reckless." She sniffed and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. "If you wish to learn a Glyph then do so with the proper safeguards in place. Don't needlessly endanger your life like this. Can you at least promise me that?" Albus pulled back and looked into Shanoa's eyes. She saw him register the severity of the fear that gripped her, and he caved._

"… _I promise."_

The sun was overhead by the time Shanoa finished recounting the memory. They had stopped for a quick bite to eat and sat on the grass to the side of the trail. Laura had yet to touch her food; instead she gazed at Shanoa with a soft smile.

"Your brother sounds like a rare breed of man. He found a worthy cause, and he never stopped fighting for it. I wish I could have had the chance to know him," the jeweler said with a hint of regret in her voice.

"Well, you did get to meet him, albeit not under the best circumstances." Laura sighed and looked away.

"In regards to my… imprisonment." The jeweler seemed uncomfortable with her wording, but it was an applicable term. "There's a large chunk of time that's just a blank in my memory. I remember hearing the bell jingle while I was cleaning the shop, and I turned to greet who I thought was a customer. I saw him – Albus – for a brief moment. He threw a strange crystal at me, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the wilderness. You know the rest."

"What happened when he took some of your blood?" Father Nikolai had fretted over Albus' grim intentions after his second visit to Wygol.

"My memory of that is hazy too." Laura shook her head. "He must have done something to entrance me."

"That's possible. Even I don't know the true extent of my brother's capabilities. He kept his promise and stopped attempting to learn Glyphs in secret, but he did hold the position of Ecclesia's Chief Researcher. That afforded him complete access to the Order's archives, and I can only imagine the knowledge he found within those tomes." The warrior frowned. "No doubt that was his plan all along. Albus had hounded Barlowe for the honor of the position for years."

"He probably saw it as the best resource for finding a better means of protecting you," Laura said. Shanoa hesitated a moment before she nodded.

"Probably."

They ate their snack in contemplative silence. As Shanoa chewed her food her eyes kept wandering to the black bow she had placed on the ground beside her. The weapon silently demanded her attention until she could no longer contain her curiosity.

"Does that bow come from your mother's side or the Belmont side of your family?" Shanoa's question surprised both of them. Laura's eyes momentarily widened in shock and she swallowed her bite before she responded.

"The Belmont side, naturally. My father's primary indulgences were the crafting of jewelry and the hunt. They were life and death; two sides of the same coin," she said in a hollow tone.

Laura stared at the black bow for a long moment before she rose to her feet and walked over to the weapon. She picked it up with one hand and plucked a single arrow from the quiver with the other. Shanoa watched her friend as she scanned the surrounding forest for a suitable target. Laura pointed to an almost barren tree some distance away. While most of its leaves had already fallen, one lone yellow leaf stood perched on a twig that jutted from one of its lower branches.

The jeweler trembled slightly as she notched the arrow to the bowstring, but stilled as she studied her target. The wind died down and Laura inhaled as she pulled the string taut. Her form was smooth and strong, as if she had done so thousands of times before. After a long moment Laura released the arrow and it whizzed through the air.

It missed the target by a hair. The yellow leaf swayed back and forth from the rush of air as the projectile flew past. A sorrowful smile formed on Laura's face.

"And I've just wasted an arrow."

Shanoa remained silent as she processed this new development. Her friend had missed, yes, but the way Laura had handled the boy betrayed her expertise.

_When did Laura become a proficient archer?_

The sight of the beautiful, refined jeweler dressed in travel garb and wielding a bow was a strange one. It felt uncharacteristic, but the way Laura carried herself did not give Shanoa the impression that this behavior was foreign to the jeweler. She watched as Laura strapped the bow back in its harness.

"Enough of that." Laura flashed Shanoa a forced smile. "I have another question for you. Though this one is, admittedly, more in-depth."

"Oh?" Shanoa gave her a quizzical look.

"Now that I have a better understanding of who Albus was, and of what you two meant to each other, I would like to hear you recount your adventure from the beginning." The jeweler's eyes glistened with anticipation. "Please?"

"Didn't I already tell you?" Shanoa recalled their conversation that fateful morning.

"You told me a brief summary, but I'm curious to know the full breadth of it. I want to hear you recount it in detail." The warrior studied her with a wary eye. She seemed genuinely interested – near eager – to know what had transpired during the course of Shanoa's mission. The warrior did not fancy herself a storyteller, but she had felt relieved when she first revealed the details of her past. Most of all, she wanted to tell Laura. The jeweler had her trust, and Shanoa doubted she could confide her secrets to anyone else.

"This will take a while," the warrior said.

"We've got plenty of time." Laura smiled. Shanoa paused for a moment before she decided to delve right in.

"It all started right before the ritual where I was supposed to absorb Dominus. Albus had been out on assignment – most likely some form of field research – so I was surprised to find him waiting for me in the main hall…"

IXI

Shanoa spent what remained of the day recounting her mission in detail. Laura only interrupted when she needed clarification, but for the most part was an enrapt listener. The warrior was surprised at her own eagerness to tell the story. She continued to talk even when they were forced to stop and make camp for the night. It wasn't until after they had eaten dinner that Shanoa came upon a stumbling block.

"I felt an unsettling energy flow from behind that door; a cold wave that carried the scent of fear. It was the same aura that had emanated from Albus inside the church, and I knew that it was time to finish this." There was a tremor in her voice. The words dried up in Shanoa's throat and she fell silent.

The women had spread their bedrolls next to each other on the hard ground. They lay down on the mats and stared up at the night sky. The light of the dying campfire did not diffuse the brilliant shine of the stars above them. Shanoa tried to force herself to continue, but after a few failed attempts she sighed in frustration. Laura turned towards her with a comforting smile.

"You can stop for tonight."

"It still hurts." A pang of grief pierced through Shanoa's chest. "I can accept that he's dead, but Albus was not supposed to die by my hands." They were silent for a few minutes as the weight of Shanoa's guilt hung heavy in the night air. Shanoa kept her gaze averted from Laura's, but she felt the jeweler watch her intently.

"Are you familiar with constellations?" the jeweler asked. Shanoa was perplexed by the unexpected the question.

"I know what they are, but I'm not familiar with the stories behind them. The subject was considered pagan and we were expressly forbidden from studying it." The warrior frowned.

"We have a clear view of an intriguing group of constellations." Laura pointed to the sky above them. "I can tell you the myths associated with them. That is, if you're interested." Shanoa looked up at the twinkling heavens. While she knew little of the world outside Ecclesia, she knew even less of what lay beyond. There was an entire universe that mankind had never touched, and she realized that she was curious to know how others interpreted that great, infinite expanse.

"I think that would be wonderful," Shanoa said with a smile.

"The cluster is comprised of four constellations: Cepheus, Cassiopeia, Andromeda, and Perseus. The gods placed them near one another because their stories are interwoven in mythology." Shanoa tried to locate each of the constellations, but came up empty handed.

"I don't know what they look like," she said in a meek voice. Laura pointed to a large dot in the sky. The star shone brighter than the rest in the dark canopy.

"That's Polaris; commonly known as the North Star. It's a central fixture in the cluster and a useful reference point. Now, we'll start with Cepheus. His constellation takes the form of a robed king adorned with a crown of stars." Laura traced an outline of the king with her index finger in an attempt to help the younger woman better visualize him. "Cepheus' left foot rests over Polaris, and his scepter is extended towards his queen, Cassiopeia."

"I think I see him…" It was more difficult than Shanoa had anticipated. The stars did not form a clear outline of the subject; rather they suggested a rough skeleton of the intended image.

"Cassiopeia sits on a throne with her head pointed towards Polaris. She was placed there as an insult, but I'll expound on that later." The jeweler sketched the new figure. "Their daughter, Andromeda, has an interesting depiction. She takes the form of a woman with outstretched arms and chains bound around her wrists."

"Why is she in chains?" Shanoa asked.

"As punishment for the sins of her parents."

"How awful…" The warrior grimaced. Laura paused for a moment before she shifted to draw the fourth figure.

"Perseus is one of the great classical Greek heroes. You can find him near Andromeda and her parents. He wields a sword in one hand and carries the head of Medusa in the other."

"Medusa?" Shanoa started in recognition. "There were creatures in Dracula's castle with that name. They were nothing more than floating heads, but their hair had been replaced by a bed of snakes. A few had pallid flesh and could inflict petrification if I touched them." She sneered. "Annoying doesn't even begin to describe them." Laura chuckled at the revelation.

"I see you're already familiar with the monster that brought these four characters together. Perseus was a son of Zeus – the chief god of the Greek pantheon – who was burdened with the task of slaying the Gorgons. They were a family of three demons who could turn a man to stone when he looked directly into their eyes. Medusa and her sisters terrorized the Greeks. They killed and pillaged as they pleased, and the inability to look the demons in the eye during combat left warriors without the means to stop them. But the gods revealed the Gorgons' weakness to Perseus. The trick, he learned, was to fight backwards.

"While the Gorgon's gaze was deadly, their reflections posed no threat to Perseus. He polished his shield until it became as reflective as a mirror. Then he taught himself how to fight an enemy that was positioned behind him. Using this method he was able to defeat Medusa and chopped off her head without ever confronting her face-to-face."

"An interesting tactic." Shanoa nodded with approval.

"Perseus stored the severed head in a sack and carried it with him as he traveled the Earth. One day he discovered the beautiful Andromeda chained to a rock beside the sea. The hero was immediately smitten with her and asked how she had come to be a prisoner.

"Andromeda revealed that her mother, Cassiopeia, had spurned the gods. The queen claimed that her own beauty surpassed that of the Nereids and even Hera herself. The goddesses, insulted by the mortal woman's claim, appealed to Poseidon and demanded that he exact punishment from the boastful queen. Poseidon unleashed a giant sea-dwelling monster upon the coast and decreed that the gods' wrath would not be appeased unless they sacrificed Andromeda to the creature. Her parents, though distraught by Poseidon's terms, could not find an alternative. So they chained their daughter to the rock where she awaited her death." Shanoa hissed.

"What a cruel thing for gods to demand," she said.

"The Greek gods commonly suffered from human vices, and it often took a mortal of virtue to right the wrongs that had been committed," Laura said. "Perseus defied the will of corrupt, god-like beings. In a way, he was very much like you." Shanoa turned and looked at the jeweler again and, for a moment, she felt something shift.

There was a strange look in Laura's eyes; one that Shanoa had seen before in fleeting glances and when the jeweler dropped her guard. She could not identify what it was, and the mystery that surrounded the emotions contained in that look was perplexing. Shanoa opened her mouth to comment on it, but whatever she had intended to say died on her lips.

"So Perseus rescued her?" she asked instead.

"He slew the monster, saved the princess, and wed her in a lavish ceremony. It's all rather cliché, but endearing in its own right." Laura paused as she chuckled. "However, there are notable variations of the story. Some versions say that Perseus bartered with Andromeda's parents for her hand before he killed the beast; effectively forcing them to agree to his terms if they wanted to save their daughter's life. Cassiopeia's opinion of her daughter's husband is also up for debate. In most versions she happily welcomes Perseus into her family, but a few state that she objected to their wedding. Perseus, in a rather selfish display, used Medusa's head to turn the queen to stone. I, personally, prefer the less grim versions."

"What makes Cassiopeia's constellation insulting?" Shanoa referred to Laura's earlier comment.

"Poseidon was enraged that his plan to exact revenge had failed. The god instead deigned to give Cassiopeia an undignified position in the heavens." Laura pointed to the North Star again. "Her head points towards Polaris, so – regardless of wherever men may look at the stars – Cassiopeia spends half the night upside-down. The Greek gods were spiteful bastards, but they often paved the way for interesting myths."

"How did you become so well versed in mythology?" Shanoa was amazed by the wealth of information Laura possessed on the subject.

"You've seen how many books I have in my house. I've read every single one of them, and most I've read twice."

"Where in God's name do you find the time?" The warrior gaped at her. Laura seemed amused by the younger woman's surprise.

"I guess by now it's obvious that I don't get out much. My life in Wygol has been pretty dull. I spent most days crafting and reading. No element of adventure at all until you and Albus came along." She teased. Shanoa paused for a moment.

"What about your life before you moved to Wygol?"

"… Nothing you could call an adventure." The jeweler closed her eyes and yawned. "It's been a long day. I'm going to try and get some sleep." She rolled onto her side so that her back was to Shanoa. It was an obvious attempt to avoid the subject. Shanoa stared at her friend as frustration and determination swirled inside her chest.

_Someday soon, Laura, I will get you to tell me what it is you're running from. _

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes: <strong>I consulted a star chart when I first wrote this chapter and the constellations in question do appear in the Romanian sky during autumn. The myths associated with them were, thankfully, relevant to the narrative.

The inspiration for the flashbacks in this chapter is directly lifted from brief in-game dialogue. Right after Shanoa absorbs Albus' soul we get a few glimpses of his memories, including the following.

"Albus: Name's Albus. I guess we're brother and sister now.

Shanoa: My brother, huh? ...Albus."

While game lore outright states that both siblings are orphans this text confirms that they did not become family until they were older. It also implies that the arrangement of their new familial relationship was outside of their control. It fell in line with my vision of Ecclesia that the two would be forced together by Barlowe as a way to ensure that they were not completely ostracized by the community.

Following that quote is this interaction.

"Albus: Argh!

Shanoa: You can't keep doing this; you'll destroy yourself! Let me take your place.

Albus: What... kind of brother would I be...if I didn't protect you...? That's...my role."

Albus' prevailing flaw is that he goes to extreme lengths in order to protect his sister. This dialogue confirmed that he's been doing so long before the events of the game. While the circumstances of this exchange are left up to interpretation I immediately envisioned the scenario where Albus attempted and failed to host a Glyph. Shanoa is, after all, the only one capable of hosting them in her flesh. It's in line with Albus' character that he would have tried to accomplish this before Dominus, but he wasn't chosen for that role.

So, as I said in my note at the beginning of chapter one, I've taken a lot of creative liberties when it comes to expanding on game lore. However, I've done my best to base everything on canonical sources.


	10. Forceful Consequences

**Author's note:** this chapter underwent some heavy revisions, though it still contains graphic violence.

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten<p>

_Forceful Consequences_

_The cavernous room Shanoa found herself in was huge in its own right, but it was only a fraction of the gargantuan infrastructure that was Dracula's castle. The stronghold seemed to stretch on for miles, and Shanoa wondered how much of the castle existed in the earthly realm. She had seen the shift in reality as she made her way down into the bowels of the bastion and passed through windowed halls that afforded her a rare glimpse of the world outside. She saw the expected mountain wilderness, but the sky above the scenery gave her pause. The universe spun at a dizzying pace. It transitioned from day to night within a matter of seconds and the stars streaked white lines against the blackness of space. Shanoa attributed the phenomenon to the dimensional instability that Dracula was causing. Still, a part of her questioned how much time she had lost in these halls._

_She had fought her way through the castle's armory until she reached what appeared to be a coliseum. The ceiling towered so high above her that Shanoa could barely see it. Metal spikes jutted from the stones overhead and glinted in the light of the blazing beacons that lined the edges of the oval space. Stone bleachers surrounded the arena; the top row additionally supported overhanging arches. A strange, dark blue light glowed from behind the arches, but she could not see the source._

_What made the warrior pause was not the size of the room itself, but the sharp incline in front of her. A massive ramp of carved stone rose up to a doorway situated high above the arena floor on the opposite wall. Shanoa saw a crimson light pulse from the room beyond and she knew she had at last located Arma Custos. Cerberus' third head called to her, and while her instincts warned her against ascending the slope Shanoa had no other choice. She had to obtain the Glyph in order to unlock the passage that would lead her to Dracula._

_So the warrior climbed._

_An unsettling feeling grew in the pit of the warrior's stomach as she climbed higher and higher above the arena floor. She preferred to reach her destination as soon as possible, but she resisted the urge to use Rapidus Fio. The whirlwind force the Glyph created could launch her up the slope faster than she could run, but as it was a recent acquisition her experience with the Glyph was limited. She questioned her ability to control it on anything other than a flat surface. If Shanoa miscalculated and lunged to either side she risked hurling herself off the slope. A fall from this height threatened severe injury or even death._

_Shanoa was close to the top when she was obstructed by a wall of curved rock. She stopped to determine the best way to climb over it, but paused when she felt something shift._

_The stone ramp had moved._

_Her heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sensation and a faint hint of dread tugged at her. Yet the small stirring of emotional fear was drowned out by a rush of adrenaline. Shanoa prepared for battle. She did not flinch as the wall before her split in two and pulled back to reveal a giant red eye._

_Shanoa steadied herself as the behemoth beneath her groaned to life. She faltered as her balance was offset by the creature's movement. The eye remained fixated on her as she stumbled._

_Something large and heavy slammed into her back and the warrior cried out as she was hurled up and over the creature's head towards the far wall. Shanoa relaxed her body as she flew through the air in anticipation of the impending collision. She managed to twist herself around in time and crashed into the wall._

_Shanoa immediately began to fall forward and tried to grasp for a hold. Thankfully, the wall was not a flat surface and she managed to hook her arms around a protruding stone slab. Her head spun and Shanoa gasped for air as she assessed the new enemy that towered before her._

_The creature was massive in every sense of the word. It took on the appearance of a centaur knight composed of an interesting mixture of sculpted stone and bright metallic, mechanical construct. Sections of the behemoth appeared to be glowing, but Shanoa had barely studied her foe when she noticed that two gigantic crossbows attached to its front legs had whirred to life. They rotated and took aim at the vulnerable warrior. _

_Shanoa let go of the slab as the centaur released the bolts. She heard the projectiles burrow into the stone above her as she tumbled down the wall. It wasn't a straight free-fall to the ground; Shanoa managed to slow her progress by grabbing a few more protruding bricks. She landed hard on the arena floor and groaned in pain. The warrior quickly retrieved a red vial from her pouch and drank its contents. The potion was not a cure-all, but it would help mend whatever injuries she might have sustained during the fall._

_She heard something slice through the air above her and Shanoa looked up in time to see a huge blue sword driving towards her. The warrior rolled to the side and a loud grinding sound echoed throughout the chamber as the tip of the blade plunged into the floor. Shanoa leapt to her feet and strafed around the centaur as it tugged the weapon free. The behemoth's head turned from side to side. It appeared to have momentarily lost track of her. _

_She took advantage of that brief pause to formulate a plan of attack. The giant eye was a glaring weak point. She just needed to figure out a way to reach it._

_The centaur found her again and swung its gargantuan sword in a broad vertical arc. It crashed onto the ground in front of the warrior; the wall of blue steel effectively blocking her path. She pivoted and ran in the opposite direction, but the centaur swung its sword again and she was obstructed by another wall. It seemed that she could not strafe around the creature. A head-on attack would be her best option._

_Shanoa scanned the front of the behemoth for any sign of weakness and noted the two shining red plates that covered the centaur's kneecaps. They would be suitable targets. She dashed towards the centaur's front legs. The creature watched her approach and stamped its hooves in an attempt to discourage her from getting too close, but it lost sight of her as she moved underneath. The centaur continued to crash around blindly, though its massive size and weight slowed its movement. Shanoa was able to maneuver close enough to leap on top of its right hoof and she clutched the grooves carved into the stone surface. The centaur did not seem to be able to feel her grip on its limb and continued its effort to trample her. The vibrations from the hoof's repeated collisions with the ground threatened to loosen her hold, but Shanoa held fast and began to climb._

_She only needed to get halfway up the centaur's calf before the red plate was within striking distance. Shanoa summoned Melio Macir and the giant hammer materialized in the air above her outstretched right hand. She gripped the handle, planted her feet on a grooved surface, and – with an upward thrust – propelled both herself and the weapon towards the weak point. Melio Macir barreled through the air as she swung and smashed into the red plate. There was a loud cracking sound and the plate shattered under the force of the impact. _

_The beast's head tilted back as it made an ear-splitting noise that reminded her of nails dragged against metal. Shanoa guessed the sound was akin to a howl of pain. She felt the leg tremble and threaten to give way. The warrior hastened to cripple the beast and swung Melio Macir a second time. There was no protective plate covering the joint and she heard a sickening crunch as the weapon made contact. Another grating roar pierced through the air and the knee buckled. As the leg crashed towards the ground Shanoa flung herself out to the side to avoid being crushed beneath it. She ducked into a roll as she hit the arena floor and righted herself. The centaur's left leg had stilled and she charged towards the other hoof. _

_The behemoth bent over its damaged knee as Shanoa began to ascend the left calf. Without any jerking movements the climb was an easy one and she brought herself to eye level with the plate before she summoned the hammer Glyph. The centaur didn't realize what she was doing until the warrior shattered the second plate. The beast swiped at her with a roar. A giant hand found her side and Shanoa was thrown from the knee. She cried out in pain as her back slammed against the arena floor and she stared up at the enraged creature._

_The centaur somehow found the strength to stand on both its front legs. Its right leg shook as the creature gained its footing, but stilled as the behemoth eyed the tiny warrior sprawled beneath it. It stamped its right hoof and reared up on its hindquarters in a defiant challenge. The warrior watched as the hooves rose and kicked above her head; the damn thing was going to trample her. Spurred on by a sudden impulse, Shanoa pushed herself to her feet and summoned Rapidus Fio. _

_Her vision blurred as the Glyph hurled the warrior forward. It was a short burst and Shanoa skidded to a stop before the centaur's rear hooves. The creature fell forward; a violent vibration surged through the ground as its front hooves slammed against hard stone. It became confused when it looked down to inspect her trampled body, but could not find a corpse._

_Shanoa searched for her next target. The four crossbows were a point of concern, but familiar red plates were fixed above their central gears. Shanoa summoned Melio Ascia and the axe spun in the air above her head as she took aim at the bow on the centaur's right hindquarter. She ran out from underneath the monster. The giant eye immediately locked onto the source of the movement. Shanoa didn't flinch under its glare and hurled the axe at its weak point. The Glyph found its mark and the blade buried deep into the gear. The new obstruction locked the crossbow in place._

_The beast bellowed once more and took aim at her with the working crossbow. Shanoa ran underneath the creature and out of its line of fire. The centaur clamored around the arena in an attempt to force her out from beneath it, but its lumbering movements allowed Shanoa to stay under its body with relative ease. When it realized that tactic was futile the centaur stopped and raised its right front hoof. It kicked backwards at the warrior, but she dodged to the left. Shanoa flung another axe at the undamaged front crossbow. The blade embedded in the behemoth's shoulder and it faltered in pain._

_Shanoa repeated the process two more times. The warrior weaved back and forth beneath the centaur as she disabled the remaining crossbows. The creature continued to try to kick at her, but it always missed. It wasn't long before the creature was studded with Melio Ascia's barbed axes._

_The centaur stumbled around for a few moments after Shanoa struck the fourth crossbow. Its body swayed before it crouched down, and then – to the warrior's surprise – the behemoth leapt into the air. She did not know what the creature intended to do, but there was now a clear path to the monster's rear. Shanoa launched forward with Rapidus Fio and ground to a stop before she slammed into the opposite wall. The entire room shook when the centaur landed, but any delusions it might have had of victory were squashed when the giant red eye caught sight of Shanoa. Its pupil dilated as she rushed towards its bladed tail._

_It was almost within reach when the lethal appendage pulled back and the centaur took aim at her. Shanoa moved in a random serpentine pattern, but the giant eye followed her movements. The warrior paused in anticipation and allowed the bladed tail to hover above her head. The eye watched her as she feigned a dodge to the right. The centaur fell for the trick and plunged the blade into the ground where it thought she would be. Shanoa had, instead, rolled to the left and strafed behind the tail._

_The behemoth encountered some difficulty when it tried to wrench the blade out of the arena floor. Its tail had caught in the stone which stilled the beast's movement enough for Shanoa to grab hold of it. She was able to climb a few feet before the centaur pulled the blade free of the ground. The behemoth violently shook its tail and Shanoa lost her grip. The warrior cursed as she tumbled to the floor and righted herself. She did not feel any pain, but growled in frustration as adrenaline coursed through her._

_Under different circumstances she might have admired the centaur's resilience, but she was determined to reach Dracula. The behemoth only served as another obstacle between her and the Dark Lord. Shanoa searched for more red-plated weak points and spotted two orbs located on the hocks of its back legs. She felt the blood pound in her arms as she once again summoned Melio Ascia. The warrior hurled the axe at the left orb before she immediately invoked the Glyph a second time and attacked its right leg._

_The centaur staggered in pain, yet it was not enough to satisfy Shanoa._

_She rained a barrage of axes upon the red orbs. The assault did not allow the behemoth a chance to lash out with its tail again. A loud, grating howl rang in Shanoa's ears as she flung blade after blade at the centaur. Both plates shattered, but she did not stop. Multiple axes had cleaved deep into the exposed tendons before the beast shrieked in agony and collapsed against the arena floor._

_The tail lopped onto the ground in front of her and Shanoa leapt on top of the limp appendage. She sprinted along the tail and up the centaur's back; her previous concerns about Rapidus Fio remained forefront in her mind. The red eye glared at her as she drew near. It seemed to challenge Shanoa; a silent defiance of her unprecedented gall. She was a mere human, and it was a ferocious monster._

_Yet no monster had ever been able to best her. Shanoa summoned Melio Secare, gripped the handle with both hands, and plunged the ethereal sword deep into the crimson iris. _

_The centaur screamed. A high-pitched metallic screech reverberated off the arena walls as a slick black liquid gushed out of the damaged eye. Shanoa withdrew the blade and drove it into the soft tissue a second time. The behemoth continued to scream and bucked its hind legs. Shanoa dismissed the Glyph and clutched the stone eyelid as it tried to throw her over its head again, but the centaur could not break her grip. _

_The black liquid continued to pour out of the red eye and the iris spun in a strange, rapid motion. The centaur reared up on its hind legs and she decided to take a chance. Shanoa let go of the eyelid and slid down the stone saddle carved into the creature's back. She grabbed the bottom edge of the saddle before she fell off and waited for the behemoth to lower its front legs. Once its body was parallel to the floor Shanoa climbed to her feet and dual summoned Melio Hasta and Rapidus Fio._

_The eye widened at the sight of the green whirlwind, but it was a mere split second before Shanoa was upon it. She drove the lance Glyph into the pupil as the gale force of Rapidus Fio propelled her forward._

_It let forth a dying scream and swayed as Shanoa continued to drive the lance deeper into the crimson eye. The behemoth crashed to the floor and the warrior gripped the eyelid as she rode out the ensuing wave of death throes._

_Shanoa panted and looked down at her hands. She still clutched the lance that remained buried deep inside the eye. The warrior grimaced as black liquid spilled out of the rendered tissue and ran down the length of her arms- _

"All right, that's enough!" Laura shuddered. "You're going to make me lose my appetite."

The pair had gotten so caught up in Shanoa's story that they'd forgotten to stop and eat lunch. They had traveled well into the early afternoon before their hunger reminded them of the skipped meal. After a short search they found a small clearing a little ways off the trail and sat down on the grass as they ate.

"Sorry," the warrior said. "I'm just so accustomed to combat that I don't think about how gruesome a topic it can be."

"So blood and gore doesn't bother you?" Laura asked. Shanoa took another bite of her food and shrugged.

"It does to a degree," she said after she had chewed and swallowed. "But given enough exposure you become numb to it, especially in the heat of battle. The supposed loss of my emotions didn't help matters. A dulled sense of empathy blinded me to the violence. For the most part I wasn't aware of the extent of the carnage. Only when I look back on it now do I see how… _messy_ the whole thing was." Laura nodded in understanding.

"That makes sense, but I wonder if that'd be the case now. Perhaps you're not quite as de-sensitized as you think," the jeweler said. Shanoa shrugged again.

"I'm not in any hurry to test that theory." They fell silent as they continued to eat their meal. A gap in the trees allowed rays of sunlight to shine down on them unobstructed and provided comfortable warmth to counteract the cool autumn air.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Shanoa's neck rose. The warrior lifted her head. Her instincts screamed that something was off, but she could not immediately discern what it was. Shanoa dropped her food and stood up. Her body tensed as she looked around for any sign of danger.

"Shanoa?" Laura stared up at her with a quizzical look on her face.

_There's something here…_

"You two look a little lost." Shanoa turned in the direction of the unexpected voice. A large, well-built man stepped out of the forest underbrush and into the clearing. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the stranger.

He was outfitted in dark green and brown travel garb that she noted would serve as an apt form of camouflage in the heavily wooded mountainside. The man did not appear to be carrying a weapon; a point that fueled Shanoa's suspicions. Monster attacks had been a very real threat in recent months, and despite their sudden disappearance the mere possibility of ambush would leave many travelers wary. Either this man was a monumental fool or he had concealed his weapon. Shanoa suspected the latter.

She frowned at the implications of her assessment. Whatever his motivations, she doubted this was a chance encounter. The warrior searched for signs of a weapon hidden beneath his clothing. If she knew what he was armed with it would better prepare her should the stranger turn hostile. He took another step forwards and Shanoa unsheathed the hunting knife that was strapped to her side. She pointed the blade at the man as she took a defensive, but threatening, stance.

"Laura, get behind me." Her eyes slid to the jeweler who had also dropped her meal and stood up. Laura nodded and began to move towards Shanoa. The stranger chuckled at their distrustful behavior and held out his arms in a peaceful gesture.

"There's no call for unpleasantness here," he said with an empty smile. "I was tracking a deer when I noticed that you two seem to have wandered off the path a bit. I thought I'd come and see if you need help finding it again." He took another cursory step towards Shanoa, but stopped when she shot him a dangerous glare. She studied his face. The man had gruff, angular features and his jawline was hidden underneath rough brown stubble. There was a predatory glint in his green eyes. A long red scar cut a jagged course from the outside of his left eyebrow, around his cheek, and down his neck. He looked the part of a man who was no stranger to a brawl.

"Do you have much luck felling game without a bow?" Shanoa asked as Laura came up behind her. The man appeared taken aback by her question, but after a momentary pause he flashed the warrior a coy grin.

"A hunter is not limited to a bow and arrow. I could be using a gun."

"But you're not." Shanoa inclined her head towards his waist. "Even if your story _was_ true I doubt a non-malicious hunter would feel compelled to hide their gun belt. Now, I suggest you turn around and go back the way you came." The man clicked his tongue.

"It doesn't have to be like this," he said with a shake of his head.

"Oh, but it does." Shanoa bared her teeth at him and growled. The stranger hung his shoulders and sighed, but did not make a move to retreat. Instead, he snapped his fingers.

Three men leapt out of the forest at his signal. All of them brandished swords and pointed the blades at the women. Shanoa's grip on the hunting knife tightened. They were dressed in a fashion that mirrored the first man's rugged style. Her suspicions had been correct; they were a small group of bandits. Shanoa felt Laura press against her. The women stood back to back as the three men approached and moved to circle the pair.

"Now, I suggest you drop the knife," the man with the scar (who Shanoa assumed to be their leader) said with a smirk. One of the men dared to get close to the warrior. He brought the tip of his blade to rest underneath her chin. Shanoa paused as she sized up her opponent. He seemed amused by her indignation and lifted the sword higher until it pointed between her eyes. She frowned, but relaxed her stance. Shanoa dropped her shoulders and bent down slightly as if to acquiesce to the leader's demands.

For a fraction of a second the bandit in front of her lowered his guard at her display of submission, but it was all that Shanoa needed. In a quick, fluid motion the warrior righted herself and knocked his sword away with the blade of her knife. The bandit was startled by her unexpected retaliation and slashed back at Shanoa on instinct. His sword cut a clumsy arc through the air and opened himself up enough for the warrior to make a move. She rushed the bandit and caught the limb in a strong hold. He squirmed, but she did not yield. Shanoa twisted the arm to a violent degree until it snapped under the pressure.

The man screamed in agony, but Shanoa continued to wrench at the broken limb until he released his grip on the sword. He gasped and almost doubled-over from the pain. Shanoa – spurred on by a rush of adrenaline – kneed the man just below his diaphragm. He sputtered as his body seized. She let go of the bandit and he collapsed to the forest floor. The warrior swiftly bent down and picked up his discarded sword with her left hand. She pivoted to face the two armed bandits and brandished both blades in a vicious challenge.

"Come on!" Shanoa shouted. She may have lost her Glyphs, but she had been tempered by combat. She could wield a metallic weapon as masterfully as any ethereal blade.

Laura stood frozen between the warrior and the remaining bandits. The black bow and her small dagger had been set aside with their packs, but Laura did not attempt to make a move for them. Instead she started to back up towards Shanoa, but the man farthest from the warrior lunged to grab ahold of her. Shanoa threw the hunting knife and the blade embedded deep into the bandit's right shoulder. He howled in pain and clutched at the wound with his left hand.

The jeweler did something unexpected. Instead of retreating she charged for the wounded man and punched him hard in the face. The bandit's head snapped to the side as he staggered under the force of the blow. Laura pulled back her arm to throw another punch, but before she could swing the man twisted and backhanded her across her face.

"Laura!" Shanoa dashed towards her friend, but the third bandit leapt in front of her and blocked her path.

Their swords clashed into each other as the two fighters converged. Shanoa's attention shifted away from Laura as she attempted to dispose of the bandit as quickly as possible. The warrior tried to overwhelm her opponent with a barrage of offensive attacks. She was relentless, but he was more skilled than Shanoa anticipated. The bandit managed to defend against the repeated blows.

There was no grace to Shanoa's form. Her haste and fury overrode any discipline the elders of Ecclesia had instilled in her. It was one thing to threaten her, but to have the gall to harm someone she cared about?

_I won't let anyone get away with that!_

The swords locked together with another loud ring. Shanoa dug her feet into the ground as both combatants placed their weight against their blades. The bandit was larger than she was, but Shanoa possessed stronger conviction. She forced herself closer; the bandit trembled slightly as she inched forward. The warrior bared her teeth at him before she kneed him hard in the groin. He cried out and buckled over in pain. Shanoa stood over him as he knelt on the ground. He groaned as she shifted her stance in order to deliver a swift kick to his head.

The warrior froze when she heard the sound of a distinctive, familiar click. She looked up to confirm the source of the noise and her gut twisted at what she saw.

The man Laura had punched in the face managed to get ahold of the jeweler. His right arm hung limp at his side, the knife still buried in his shoulder, while his left was wrapped around Laura's neck. The jeweler appeared somewhat dazed, but a raw fury burned behind her eyes. She clawed at her captor's arm with both hands, yet he did not loosen his hold. The man with the scar stood next to them. He had drawn a gun during the fight and pointed the barrel at Laura's head.

"I think that's quite enough fooling around." There was a playful lilt to his voice, but it was offset by the harsh glare in his eyes. "Now, I suggest you drop that sword and get on your knees."

Shanoa growled and returned his glare with one of her own. Her pride as a warrior refused to submit to the machinations of a coward. The man stepped closer to Laura and pressed the gun against her temple.

"I won't ask a second time," he said in a much harder tone. Shanoa hesitated and her gaze found Laura's. The jeweler attempted to put on a show of bravery, but she could not conceal her fear. Laura winced and tried to pull away from the gun barrel, but her captor held fast. Shanoa cringed and groaned in defeat.

"All right." The warrior stepped away from the disarmed bandit. She tossed her sword to the side and knelt on the ground in the middle of the clearing.

"Put your arms behind your back." Shanoa glared at the bandit leader again, but complied with his demand. "Anton, get off your ass and bind her hands."

The man Shanoa had kneed in the groin moaned and forced himself to his feet. He moved slowly; the pain from her blow had not yet subsided. Anton grabbed a coiled rope that hung from a hook attached to his belt. He walked behind Shanoa and proceeded to bind her wrists.

"That bitch is mine!" A new voice demanded. The man with the broken arm staggered towards her. His face was contorted by a mixture of agony and pure rage.

"Control yourself, Joseph," the leader said in an even tone.

"Fuck you, Sorin!" Flecks of spittle flew from Joseph's mouth. "This was supposed to be a straightforward job: we go in, overpower a couple of easy targets, take what we want, and leave! Now it's gone to shit! She broke my fucking arm in half!" His right arm was bent at an unnatural degree. Shanoa could see the splintered bone press against the underside of his skin. "I'm going to kill the bitch!"

"Both of them are to be left alive." Sorin's expression dared the other bandit to challenge him. "Need I remind you that we all agreed to follow these terms?"

Joseph balled his good hand in anger, but did not offer a retort. He marched towards Shanoa and she steeled herself for the incoming blow. The bandit punched her hard in the face, but it took a great deal of strength to cause Shanoa pain. Joseph did not have that strength. Her head snapped to the side and she felt the inside of her cheek slice open on one of her teeth. Shanoa tasted copper as blood pooled in her mouth. She spat at Joseph and a red glob stained the front of his shirt.

"Not even a whimper. You probably couldn't kill this woman even if you tried." Sorin laughed before he shifted his attention to the uninjured man. "Anton, take care of Martin's shoulder while I tie this one up."

"What about me?" Joseph asked and pointed to his broken limb.

"Put your anger to good use and see to it that she doesn't cause any more trouble. We'll fix your arm later." Sorin dismissed him with a wave. Joseph muttered something under his breath and took a potion out of a satchel slung at his side. He uncorked the bottle with his thumb and chugged the mixture in a single gulp. He shot Shanoa a snide grin when he finished.

"You're going to regret ever laying a finger on me," he said and threw away the now empty vial. Joseph retrieved his sword and held the edge of the blade against the side of Shanoa's neck, but the warrior paid little attention to him. Her eyes were fixed on Sorin as he tied Laura's hands behind her back.

The jeweler found her gaze again and Shanoa's heart nearly broke at the silent, desperate plea reflected in Laura's eyes. Shanoa tried to put on an air of confidence, but fear had begun to churn in the pit of her stomach as she assessed their predicament. They were outnumbered, bound, and had no weapons at their disposal. If she had her Glyphs everything would be different, but as it was their situation was dire. Shanoa could only watch as Sorin gagged Laura with a strip of cloth.

Anton had removed the blade from Martin's shoulder and bandaged the wound. He then handed the bloody hunting knife to Sorin. The bandit leader wiped the blade on his pant leg as his two accomplices each took hold of Laura's arms. Sorin turned towards Shanoa with a wicked smile on his face.

"You have caused more trouble than I anticipated, my dear, and I think you deserve some sort of punishment for your actions." He wagged his finger at the warrior. "However, I get the distinct impression that you're accustomed to physical pain. Normally that would complicate things, but I doubt your friend is as resilient." Sorin's words snapped something inside of her. She recognized his intent, and Shanoa was overwhelmed with the determination to stop these men no matter what the cost.

"No!" She lurched forward. The sword against the side of her throat cut into her flesh, but she did not feel any pain. She just needed to act.

The warrior cried out as a hand fisted in her long hair and wrenched her backwards. Joseph dragged her down to the ground; the violent move ripped some of Shanoa's hair out. She squirmed as she felt drops of blood dribble down her neck and the back of her head.

"Where do you think you're going?" Joseph asked. "You're going to miss all the fun." He pushed Shanoa onto her stomach and knelt on top of her back to keep the struggling woman in place. Joseph's left hand remained fisted in her hair and he forced Shanoa to hold her head up. She watched as Sorin leered over Laura. The bandit twiddled the hunting knife in his fingers.

"Give me a woman over a girl any day." He snickered as he eyed the jeweler's chest. "It's just too bad that things had to turn out this way. Under different circumstances we might have gotten along just fine."

Shanoa tried to hurl a protest, but Joseph's weight forced the air from her chest. The knife caught a ray of sunlight and glistened as Sorin gripped the front of Laura's shirt. The jeweler's eyes widened in terror as he sliced through the cloth. When he was finished, Sorin pulled back the destroyed garment and studied her exposed skin.

"The chest is always a good canvas to start with. Any suggestions on what I should carve here?" he asked his companions. Laura shook her head and tried to back away, but the bandits held her in place.

"Your name would be a nice choice," Anton said. "At least she won't forget it."

"No, it's too cliché." Sorin waved his hand.

They argued as Shanoa struggled in vain against her captor. She had to do something, but she lacked the means to do anything. The warrior closed her eyes as bile rose in her throat.

She had failed again.

She could fight, she could bleed, she could scream until her lungs gave out, but what good would that do? Shanoa had lost her Glyphs, and now the very Blade that had slain Dracula was powerless against ordinary men. What good was she as a warrior if she couldn't even protect the ones she cared about?

Nothing mattered – Shanoa realized – if she lacked the means to fight for what she loved. Laura had held her in her weakest moments, had remained strong when she cried in anguish amidst the howling rain, but now all Shanoa could do in return was beg. Too many lives had been lost because of her, and she would not let it happen again!

The warrior lost all sense of herself under the surge of conviction. She did not fight for personal gain or out of selfish desires. She fought to save the innocent from the clutches of evil. Shanoa had spent her life in pursuit of the ability to stop men of this ilk, and she would not watch helplessly as another person she loved was ripped away!

_Confodere_

The word barreled through her mind with such ferocity that she almost blacked out under the sheer force of it.

"_And now you see: absorb a Glyph, and you shall know its kind. That is your gift; it's yours and yours alone."_

Barlowe had fed her so many lies, but those words had been true. These Glyphs were hers.

_Vol Confodere Melio Confodere Secare Vol Secare Melio Secare Hasta Vol Hasta Melio Hasta Macir Vol Macir Melio Macir Arcus Vol Arcus Melio Arcus Ascia Vol Ascia Melio Ascia Falcis Vol Falcis Melio Falcis Culter Vol Culter Melio Culter Scutum Vol Scutum Melio Scutum_

Her body convulsed as their names flowed through her. Each was inscribed with the intimate knowledge of the forces behind the incantations. She remembered where the Glyphs had originated. She understood the essence they were constructed from. She knew them, and the Glyphs knew her.

"What's wrong with her?"

Shanoa could barely hear the scuffling around her as the bandits' focus shifted from Laura to her writhing form.

_Redire Cubus Torpor Lapiste Pneuma Ignis Vol Ignis Grando Vol Grando Fulgur Vol Fulgur Luminatio Vol Luminatio Umbra Vol Umbra Morbus Nitesco Acerbatus Globus Dextro Custos Sinestro Custos_

Their power coursed through Shanoa's veins as the Glyphs returned to her. There had been a void inside of her, but now she would be complete again.

_Magnes Paries Volaticus Rapidus Fio Vis Fio Fortis Fio Sapiens Fio Fides Fio Felicem Fio Inire Pecunia Arma Felix Arma Chiroptera Arma Machina Refectio Arma Custos Fidelis Caries Fidelis Alate Fidelis Polkir Fidelis Noctua Fidelis Medusa Fidelis Aranea Fidelis Mortus_

All but Dominus; the forces that had constructed the Glyph were banished along with their master. The rest were hers. They had always been hers.

Shanoa grinned as her body stilled.

"Ignis," she whispered.

Joseph cried out in surprise as flames erupted in Shanoa's palm and burned through the rope that bound her wrists.

"What the-" He sputtered before he was thrown backwards by a large black force. The bandits looked down at the spot where Shanoa had been not a moment before, but she had disappeared.

"Where did she go?" Sorin asked as he retrieved his gun from its holster. Joseph appeared utterly baffled by what had just transpired. He simply shook his head.

"I don't know! One second she was here and the next-"

A figure descended from the sky and landed on top of Joseph. He didn't even get the chance to scream before Shanoa plunged Melio Secare deep into his chest. The ethereal blade cracked through the bandit's sternum and pierced his heart. Joseph gargled and coughed up blood as he stared into Shanoa's hardened blue eyes. She pushed the sword deeper until he stopped making noise.

Shanoa turned to face his companions. The remaining bandits gaped in awe as they beheld the warrior's new form. Volaticus' black feathered wings had sprouted from her back and flecks of Joseph's blood were splattered on her face; the dark crimson a sharp contrast to her pale skin. Shanoa glowed with a purple aura as she stood before them in all her terrifying glory. She dismissed Melio Secare and the sword broke into hundreds of beads of bright light before they dissipated into thin air. Her wings flexed as Shanoa walked towards her aggressors.

"Who's next?" she asked.

Sorin was the first bandit to break out of his stupor and he pointed his gun at the warrior. Before he could pull the trigger there was a strong rush of wind and Shanoa disappeared once again. The bandits immediately succumbed to confused panic. Their eyes darted about the clearing in a frantic search for the elusive woman.

"She's a witch! She's a goddamn witch!" Martin shrieked.

"Quiet!" Sorin tried to get control of his men, but they did not obey.

"This is bullshit!" Anton trembled with fear. "She never told us that one of them was a witch!" Sorin growled at him.

"I said-" A giant fist of cemented boulders pummeled into his torso. Sorin cried out as he was hurled across the clearing and crashed into a tree trunk with a sickening thud. The gun dislodged from his hand and flew into the dense underbrush. Sorin's lackeys were too stupefied by the surprise attack to notice the whirlwind that rushed up behind them.

Anton cried out as Shanoa plunged Melio Secare into the small of his back; the bloody tip of the sword protruded from his abdomen. The two bandits stared down at the weapon in shock before Shanoa pushed Anton off the blade with her foot. He crumpled lifeless to the ground.

Martin stared wide-eyed at his fallen comrade as blood gushed out of the hole in Anton's torso. His eyes cut to Shanoa and he tried to back away, but the warrior did not allow him to make much progress. She extended her left hand as she summoned Dextro Custos.

Cerberus' white head emerged from her outstretched arm as if it was a physical extension of her own flesh. The hound bared its fangs and snarled; its open maw hungry for prey. Martin raised his arms in an attempt to shield himself from the beast, but Cerberus was too fast. The hound caught his head in its mouth and its long canine teeth sunk into Martin's scalp and jaw. Shanoa did not dismiss the Glyph. Cerberus squeezed its jaw tighter and tighter until there was an audible crunch. Martin's body went limp and Shanoa allowed the hound to dissipate.

The warrior didn't bother to spare the mauled body a second glance. Her attention honed in on Sorin. The bandit leader was slumped at the bottom of the tree. He appeared dazed, but cognizant. Sorin quaked in fear as he watched the winged Blade stalk towards him. Shanoa clicked her tongue in disapproval.

"Do not cower in the face of death," she said. The tattoos on her arms glowed in anticipation. "Meet me head on. Then perhaps you will die with at least a modicum of dignity." Sorin shook his head and forced himself to his feet. The bandit turned his back on Shanoa as he attempted to flee.

Shanoa summoned Melio Arcus. She targeted the fleeing bandit and the bowstring pulled taut with a mere wave of her hand. Sorin was able to sprint for a few meters before the string released. The arrow struck true and pierced the base of his neck.

Sorin staggered and stopped in his tracks. He turned to face Shanoa and she saw the arrowhead protruding from his jugular. The bandit clawed at the projectile. She watched him flail in shock for a few moments before she dismissed the Glyph. Both the arrow and bow dissipated at her command and Sorin sputtered as blood squirted out of his ruptured artery. Sorin joined his companions as he collapsed to the forest floor.

Shanoa did not wait for him to hit the dirt before she turned and rushed to Laura's side. The jeweler had been forced to the ground in the scuffle and lay sprawled in the middle of the clearing. Shanoa cast off Volaticus; the black feathers shed from the wings in layers before they too were turned back into the pure energy from which all Glyphs were formed. Laura's shirt had been ripped to shreds, but the rest of her clothes remained intact. Fear churned in Shanoa's stomach as she knelt over her friend and noted that the jeweler's face and torso were covered in blood.

"Oh God." She went to remove the gag, but froze when she saw the look in Laura's eyes. She stared up at Shanoa's blood-stained visage in a mixture of awe and, predominately, fear. The warrior's chest tightened and she reached out to cup Laura's face, but the jeweler jerked away from Shanoa's hand.

_Is she afraid of me?_

"It's ok," Shanoa said. "Everything's all right, Laura, it's just me." The warrior's expression softened and she tried to wipe off some of the blood on her face. "It's just me," she repeated in a soothing tone.

Tears welled up in Laura's eyes as Shanoa tried again to remove the gag. This time the jeweler did not flinch. She gasped for air once Shanoa had disposed of the cloth and Laura trembled as the warrior helped her sit upright.

"Did they hurt you?" Shanoa asked with a healthy dose of concern. The blood splatter made it difficult to see if she had been injured.

"No, that's not my blood." Laura's voice cracked as she spoke. "Get this damn rope off of me." Shanoa summoned Culter and used the knife to cut her binding. Laura leaned forward once she had been freed and rubbed her wrists. There were red indentations where the rope had dug into her skin. "I'm sorry." Laura shuddered. "I was unarmed and I should have… I should have run or…"

"Laura-"

"Instead I made you…" The jeweler turned her head towards Shanoa, but did not seek to meet the warrior's concerned gaze. A few tears ran down her cheeks as her lower lip trembled. Shanoa was confused for a moment before she realized what Laura was apologizing for.

The jeweler felt responsible for what had just transpired. Laura brimmed with unmistakable guilt. Shanoa cupped the other woman's face with both hands and forced her friend to look her in the eyes.

"You did nothing wrong," Shanoa said in a strong, steady voice. "I acted of my own volition. You do not need to shoulder the weight of it."

"I made you kill-" Shanoa pressed a finger to Laura's lips.

"They are my actions, not yours," she said. Laura gulped and squeezed her eyes shut, but nodded. Shanoa pulled her into a tight embrace that the jeweler returned immediately. Laura clung to the warrior as she held the shaking woman. "You're safe now."

They knelt in silence amidst the carnage. Laura sobbed a few times, but did not outright cry. Something strange and vaguely familiar sparked inside of Shanoa as she supported the woman in her arms. It was the same feeling she'd had when she woke up in bed next to Laura the day of the thunderstorm. It was an echo of a truth that she hadn't been able to name.

_She reached out to caress the jeweler's face, but Shanoa caught herself before she could make contact. Her hand trembled in the air as a strange feeling washed over her._

'_I want… something…'_

_What did she want? Something clawed within her now; something awakened by the realization that, in every sense of the word, this woman was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen. A sudden wish for something unidentifiable that rested in the tips of her fingers as they reached out to close the distance between them._

'_A wish for what?'_

Shanoa's breath caught in her chest.

… _She would not watch helplessly as another person she loved was ripped away!_

She felt that spark ignite something deep within her. The identity of the kindling rested on the fringe of her mind, but Shanoa was too shocked to acknowledge what it was. Because such a thing was not only impossible, it was completely and utterly inconceivable.

_Another person I love…_

She loved Laura.

The realization almost made her keel over. She loved this woman, but it wasn't the same kind of love that she had for Albus. A different breed of affection, yet it was strong enough to elicit the power to reclaim her Glyphs. So what kind of love was this?

Laura sniffed and began to pull away. Shanoa forced the question from her mind so she could focus on the matter at hand. There would be time to ponder this development later.

"Do you have more clothes in your pack?" Shanoa asked. Laura nodded. "We should find you another shirt and then get the hell out of here." The warrior shifted as she made to stand up.

"Shanoa…" The sound of her name gave her pause.

"Yes?" She turned and her eyes locked with Laura's.

"Thank you," the jeweler said. The knot in Shanoa's chest unraveled at the sight of genuine gratitude and relief in Laura's expression. The warrior allowed herself a brief moment of pride.

She hadn't failed.

IXI

The woman kept to her perch amongst the branches of the thick, old tree as the pair moved below her. As per usual, they remained unaware of her presence as the vain gypsy re-dressed and the Blade gathered their gear. She waited patiently for the two women to leave the clearing and head back to the mountain trail. Once they were gone she dropped out of the tree and landed gracefully next to the body of the now-deceased bandit leader.

She turned his corpse over with her foot and bent down to retrieve a small pouch that was tied to his belt. There was a loud jingle of coins as she ripped it away. The bandits had carried out their job as instructed, but dead men had no use for gold.

The ouroboros devoured her glee.

The Blade was sharp again. Of course, Shanoa had required some amount of prodding, but despite the risks things had worked out amicably. It could have taken ages for such an encouraging situation to develop on its own. Shanoa could not summon Glyphs without the proper conviction: she needed a reason to fight.

That reason – the woman assumed – had always been the pursuit of Dracula's demise, but Shanoa had succeeded in her life-long task. With that purpose gone she had needed to spur the young warrior to find another.

She glanced at the spot where the pair had huddled on the ground after the battle. Her initial suspicions had been correct. Unexpected, yes, but it provided her with an almost unfair advantage.

The wheel of fate had been set in motion. All she needed to do was wait and everything would fall into place. She did not know how long it would take, but that hardly mattered. With the aide of the ouroboros she could wait forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> same technical changes as previous chapters. I don't need to go over those again, but there are a few important points I want to make regarding this chapter in particular.

First, when I write scenes that contain violence I try not to gloss over the gruesome realities said violence entails. If a character is cut I include blood, if someone suffers a broken bone I describe any physical distortion. It's not just that it brings into focus the intensity of a scene, but there's a tendency in media to portray violence as being, well, non-violent. Superhero movies are a common example of this where characters (and many extras) die violent, but bloodless, deaths that are immediately ignored as we get back to the action. It creates this subtle message that violence is not as gruesome as reality dictates. I don't want to send that message. My writing may be graphic, but I want to present the severity of the fact that people are dying. Besides, most – if not all – of Shanoa's Glyphs would cause some ugly wounds.

Second, I included a better examination of what went through Shanoa's mind right before she reclaimed her Glyphs. My writing got sloppy in the original version, but it's a key turning point for her character. This is the first time Shanoa really understands what motivates her to fight. She doesn't crave power for the sake of having power. She doesn't gloat about the fact that she basically killed a god. Shanoa just wants to protect people, because that's what makes her feel like she matters. She's just been dubious of this fact until now.

Third (and most important), I kept coming back to this scene with the bandits long after I posted the original version. Something didn't feel right about it, but the intended-rape scenario had been set in my mind for so long I decided to stick with it. It wasn't until a guest reviewer commented that Shanoa's subsequent character development in the next few chapters contradicted what she knew at this point in the story that I realized what irked me. In fact, the wish to edit this chapter is the reason why I began the re-writing process in the first place.

The presence of a very real threat was necessary to spur Shanoa to action, but the attempted rape was not. In the end not much had to be altered, but it makes a huge difference. It's an example of how much I've changed as a person since I first conceived this story. Four years ago I did not see an issue with the "sexual assault as plot development" device. Now, however, I'm disgusted by it. It's relieving to finally go back and revise this scene.

In conclusion, this chapter does a good job at highlighting the flaws in first drafts and the need for external input. This is a solo project, and will probably remain so, but that robs me of outside opinions until I post a chapter. The only sounding board I have are reviews and that means I sometimes won't be able to identify what does/doesn't work in this story until after it goes public. I doubt this will be the last time I revisit and revise this novel-length beast I have going, but it gets better each time. I can live with that.


	11. A Warrior's Hands

Chapter Eleven

_A Warrior's Hands_

They made haste to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall. The women did not stop to rest until the setting sun forced them to make camp. They chose an open spot next to the trail in the hopes that their close proximity to the road would deter any potential miscreants. While hiding their camp in the forest at first seemed the most desirable option the seclusion was something the bandits had taken advantage of earlier. Besides, everything had changed in the past few hours. Shanoa could protect them from any threat; be it man or monster.

The warrior's eyes lingered on the campfire that burned in front of her. The light of the flames held back the darkness of the encroaching night. She had dampened a strip of cloth with some water from her canteen and used it to clean the patches of dried blood splattered across her exposed skin. They'd reach Colibița tomorrow and the sight of two strange women covered in blood would draw unwanted attention. The stains on her dark blue dress and leather breast piece were not noticeable so she decided to let them be for now.

Shanoa remained silent as she stared down at her open palms. She had washed all the blood off her hands, but they still thrummed with the sensation of a recent kill. It wasn't a welcome feeling, yet neither was it damning. She had long since reconciled with her role as a warrior and the fact that, at times, she would take the lives of men.

Laura, on the other hand…

The jeweler had hardly spoken since the incident. Just as concerning was her avoidance to meet Shanoa's gaze and even now she kept a distance between them by choosing to sit on the opposite side of the fire. Laura's expression remained blank as she stared into the twisting flames. The jeweler's own strip of wet cloth was tangled in her clenched fingers. She displayed no indication that she was aware of anything else.

Shanoa had managed to quell her own personal turmoil for the time being. Countless questions raged inside of her, but she could wait for the answers she craved. Laura could not wait.

"Laura?" the warrior asked softly. The older woman jumped a bit at the sound of her name and looked wide-eyed at Shanoa.

"What? What is it?" she asked in a hurried tone. Though she looked at Shanoa's face she did not look directly into her eyes.

"You're very… silent." It wasn't the most insightful comment, but it was accurate.

"I…" Laura began, but shook her head and her gaze turned back to the orange flames. Shanoa frowned at her friend's continued avoidance. The warrior moved around the edge of the campfire until she was sitting next to Laura. She turned her body to face the jeweler, but Laura did not budge. Her attention remained fixed on the hypnotic dance of the flames.

Shanoa mulled over how to best voice her concerns. She had little experience in the way of comforting others, but after all that Laura had done for her the least she could do in return was make an attempt; more than that she wanted the older woman to know that she was not alone. Shanoa had an intimate understanding of what it felt like to be lost and confused.

"I'm not good at this at all." The warrior's tongue fumbled over the words, but she managed to be articulate regardless. "I'm going to try, but first I need you to tell me what it is that you're feeling. I ask because I can't even begin this attempt to console you without knowing where – anywhere – to start." She paused to scratch off a bit of dried blood that still clung to Laura's cheek. The jeweler tensed slightly at the contact, but did not shy away. "You should know that I'm not conflicted about what I did. Their blood does not weigh heavy on my shoulders, but you don't seem to share that sentiment. Then again, you were placed in a more precarious position."

"What they threatened to do to me doesn't matter." Laura grimaced. "What matters is that they're dead because of it." She closed her eyes. "I was the catalyst."

"No." The warrior shook her head. "Their evil brought about their own demise. You were just an innocent victim."

"'You may not deliver the killing blow, but it is naïve to think that absolves you of all responsibility,'" Laura murmured the words as if she was caught in a dream.

"Laura?" Shanoa asked. Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"My helplessness gave you reason to kill them. Their blood is on my hands as well. I'm just as guilty in that respect." The jeweler shuddered.

"Guilty of what: defending yourself? God only knows what else-" Shanoa caught herself before she leapt into an angry tirade. She was not upset with Laura. A rant would not do either of them any good. The warrior sighed before she continued in a calm voice. "Laura, I cannot retract what I did, and the truth is I would do it again if I had to. There are some evils that can only be stopped with a sword, and I am a Blade for those who cannot take one up on their own."

"I don't want you to kill for me." A sob escaped Laura's throat. "I don't want you to ever have to kill for me."

"I couldn't just watch them torture you." Shanoa's heart twisted in her chest and for a brief moment she envisioned what would have transpired had her Glyphs not returned. It was too awful to bear thinking about.

"You could have wounded them," Laura said. "You could have done something other than kill them."

"I've seen their ilk before. They were prideful, and if I let them live then they would have come back to exact revenge. Slit our throats while we slept or something even more gruesome."

"Is that what it all comes down to? Do you truly have no regrets over taking their lives?" The harshness of the jeweler's words threatened to undo Shanoa. This was it: the rejection she had feared since their friendship had first blossomed. This would be what tore them apart.

… _She would not watch helplessly as another person she loved was ripped away!_

A wave of resolved helped the warrior reign in her panicked emotions. She would not jump to conclusions. There were still words that needed to be said.

"I regret the waste." There was a slight tremor in Shanoa's voice. "I regret whatever made them into who they were; whether it was choice, circumstance, or both. I do not enjoy killing, Laura. In no way do I revel in administering death, but someone must play the warrior. I just happen to be that person."

"And I regret that," Laura said and, at last, looked into Shanoa's eyes. The younger woman's breath caught in her throat at the wealth of sorrow reflected in her friend's mournful expression. "I regret that you have to carry that burden, and that I had to feed it." A few tears spilled out of the jeweler's eyes. Shanoa clasped her hands over Laura's clenched fists.

"There's no reason for you to bear it for me, or even _with_ me, for that matter. Albus tried to and it almost tore him apart. I can't let you take up his misguided mantle. I do not enjoy death, but I am a fighter at heart. Of that I have no regrets." Shanoa ran her hands over the tattoos on her upper arms. "These marks go deeper than my flesh. They are as woven into my soul as the incantations that comprise Glyphs. I didn't just reclaim their power today; I filled a void in my heart. I became whole."

"Why did you lose them in the first place?" Laura asked.

"I'm not entirely sure." Shanoa looked away for a moment. "I should know, considering how much importance Glyphs hold in my life, but I don't. The only possibility I can think of is that some lone part of me tried to shun them. Perhaps, deep down, I believed that Glyphs tied me to Ecclesia and all the deception it stands for. Maybe I assumed that the spells had been tainted by the corruption of their creators. Whatever the case, these Glyphs – like most weapons or magic – are not inherently evil or wrong. The deciding factor is how I choose to use them, and I hope to craft a life of righteous purpose."

"You are more than just a Blade." Laura's resolve had flared back to life. "It may be your role to play, but it is not the entirety of who you are."

"I know that now, thanks to you," Shanoa said with a warm smile. Laura managed a small smile of her own. The jeweler sniffed and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry I've been so obstinate. I didn't mean to push you away," she said. "I'm still trying to process everything that happened."

"It's a lot for me to take in too." The day's events seemed to raise more questions than they answered.

_Another person I love…_

"You had wings." Laura's statement caught her off guard. "Was that another Glyph?"

"Its name is Volaticus." Shanoa nodded, though she wondered what prompted the jeweler's inquiry. "I discovered the Glyph while in Dracula's castle. In fact, the only way I could reach his chambers was by flying over a great chasm." Laura stared at the warrior for a long moment. Something about the jeweler's expression made it seem as if she didn't recognize the younger woman.

"You're actually…"

That indiscernible look had returned to Laura's eyes. The damn thing defied all of Shanoa's attempts to decode it. What did she see in those amber irises? She could claim every Glyph and banish the Dark Lord himself, but for the life of her Shanoa had no idea what to make of the emotions she saw in Laura's eyes.

It frightened the warrior. It sent a chill down her spine and stoked something in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't turn away from that look, but neither could she stand the sustained pressure of it. Shanoa grasped for any topic that would divert those eyes and spare her from whatever truth lay hidden in them.

"Was this the first time you've seen someone killed?" the warrior asked on a whim. Laura tensed and looked away, but the pain was clearly legible on her face. Shanoa regretted asking the question as she watched the jeweler regain her composure.

"I could say yes, but that would be an obvious lie, wouldn't it?" Laura admitted with a sigh.

"I know it isn't any of my business, I just-"

"Why not?" Laura gave the warrior a quick sidelong glance. "You've been honest with me about your own life, so it's only fair that I let you know more about who I am. It's just." She inhaled sharply. "I'm terrible at this. I've never been partial to talking about myself. I'd much rather talk about someone else's problems, because then I wouldn't have to confess to mine. I'm used to this state of denial; to living in the delusion that by not talking about them my demons will go away."

"But they don't," Shanoa said. Laura laughed, but the sound was a hollow ring.

"Some great friend I turned out to be. Here I've been trying to help you cope with your pain when I don't even know where to begin with mine." The jeweler's face fell. Her usual lively expression was now devoid of joy. There was an immense emptiness left in its wake, and the sight made Shanoa's chest ache. "I'm a hypocrite to the core."

"You don't have to keep it bottled up," Shanoa said. "I doubt I'll be able to offer much consolation without tripping over my words, but if there's one thing I understand it's the turbulent side of life. Besides, I've battled the Dark Lord himself. I doubt there's anything you can say that will present me with a greater challenge than that." The warrior sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Who knows, maybe it'll be easier than we expect. Perhaps once you start talking you'll be unable to stop and I'll find those words of comfort that seem to escape me."

Laura nodded and looked down at the bloody cloth entwined in her fingers. Shanoa waited patiently and gave her friend the time that she needed to gather her thoughts.

"I've already told you a bit about my father," the jeweler said, "though I don't think I can accurately describe how intimidating he was. It wasn't just his height and strength. He radiated a certain aura that detracted anyone who sought to engage him. Yet, in sharp contrast to his great physical prowess, my father was an avid jeweler.

"It was his life's eternal irony: the Belmont legacy was all but lost and he was reduced to setting gemstones to make a living." Her lips twisted into a sneer as she scoffed, but Laura quickly turned sullen once again. "At least, that's what it always seemed like to me. If my father had been alive when Dracula's castle appeared he would have charged the front gates – whip or no whip. Truth is he would have cleaved a bloody swath through most of the fortress before a lucky demon managed to cut him down.

"Though he had great skill as a hunter, he'd always go back to his workbench, and I could never figure out why. It contradicted his entire personality. He never told me what made jeweling appeal to him, regardless of how many times I'd ask. He didn't let me in, and I consequently never felt like I knew him. Our interactions were always tense, especially when I was younger. He wasn't the type of man who understood children…

_Laura peered around the doorframe that connected her small bedroom and the hallway. Her eyes locked on the trap she had erected in front of a tiny hole in one of the walls. For the past few nights she'd heard the telltale sound of a mouse scurrying across the floorboards. She'd never had a pet of her own, and she found mice to be rather adorable when they weren't destroying everything. It occurred to her that, should she successfully catch the mouse, she might convince her parents to let her keep it. The prospect made her giddy, and so Laura had devised a scheme to ensnare the tiny creature. It had taken quite a bit of effort to find the mouse hole, but after scrounging around on her hands and knees she had at last located it. _

_Her chest swelled with pride as she studied the trap she had set. It was a simple thing: an empty box propped up on a wooden pole. She had tied a long string around the base of the pole at one end and held the other end in her hand. Laura had baited the trap by placing a piece of yellow cheese beneath the box._

_Her father had recently taught the six-year-old how to build the basic trap. This was the first time she'd made one without his help and, while it had taken some trial and error, it appeared to be a success. Laura wondered what his reaction would be if she managed to catch the mouse on her own. Would he be proud or unimpressed with her accomplishment? She hoped for the former, but she prepared herself for the latter._

_Laura shifted on her knees as impatience began to get the best of her. It felt like she had been waiting for hours and she wondered if the mouse was even inside its nest. The girl was about to give up when a pink and white snout poked out of the hole in the wall. Laura held her breath as the mouse emerged and sniffed the air. The rodent caught the scent of the cheese and scurried forwards a moment before it stopped and sniffed the air again. It was sheer torture to watch the creature make its sporadic progress across the floorboards, but Laura recognized the need to wait. If she sprung the trap too soon then all of her effort would be in vain._

_She tensed as the mouse at last reached the cheese wedge. Its snout twitched as it examined the prize and took a cursory nibble._

_Laura yanked on the string and the box fell on top of the mouse. The rodent made a terrified squeak when it found itself trapped. She rushed into the room and pounced on the box to hold it in place. Her lips curved up in a triumphant grin as she heard the mouse scurry about beneath her._

"_Daddy, come here!" A few moments passed before she heard his telltale heavy footsteps echo down the hall. "Hurry up!"_

_A large man appeared at the entrance to her room. His height combined with his broad build made him almost too big to fit in the doorway. The man had the physicality of a brawler, but his appearance was neat and orderly. He had thick dark hair and a prominent beard that he kept trimmed to an even length. There was a gap in his beard where his hair refused to grow due to a raised scar that ran from the top of his lower lip all the way down his chin. Laura had inherited his deep amber eyes. The brown orbs looked down at her with an indeterminate expression reflected in their surface._

"_I caught a mouse!" Laura beamed up at him. "See, I made a trap all by myself. Can I keep it? Please?"_

"_No," he said curtly. Her father walked into the room and knelt down next to her. He had heavy leather gloves on and Laura deduced that he'd been doing some metalwork before she interrupted him. He pointed to the box. "Is it under there?"_

"_Why can't I keep it?" she asked, purposefully avoiding his question. _

"_It's a filthy pest and is probably carrying a multitude of diseases. I won't have it in the house and I'm certainly not going to take the effort to feed it. Now, get off the box." Laura refused and gripped the box tighter._

"_But I caught it! It's my mouse! You have to let me keep him!"_

"_Are you disobeying me?" There was a threatening edge to her father's tone that made Laura wince._

"_I… I…" She found herself at a sudden loss for words._

"_Get off the box, Laura," he said. She curled into a tiny ball and hugged the box as tight as she could. "I won't tell you again: get off the box." She shook her head and he grunted in annoyance. He managed to shove the fingers of his left hand under the edge of the box and Laura's eyes snapped open as he lifted both her and the container with ease. Before she could react he reached underneath and grabbed the mouse. The tiny white creature squirmed in his hand and tried to bite him, but its teeth were not strong enough to penetrate the glove's thick material._

"_Give him back!" Laura yelled as she scrambled to her feet. She lunged for the mouse, but her father stood up and easily held it out of her reach. Before she could attempt to grab it again he snapped the mouse's neck with a flick of his powerful fingers. Laura gasped in horror at the sight of its head twisted at an unnatural angle. Its now lifeless brown eyes stared wide open at her; a silent question forever etched within._

_Laura clasped her hands over her mouth and began to weep._

"_Stop crying, it's just another vermin. We're better to be rid of it," her father said in a gruff tone._

"_I hate you." Laura sobbed and her hands moved to cover her eyes as tears continued to spill forth. "I hate you. I hate you."_

_Her father did not respond. He watched her for a moment before he pivoted on his heels and exited the room without a word, taking the dead mouse with him._

"Why are you telling me this?" Shanoa asked after Laura had concluded her story. Seeing an animal killed and seeing a human being killed were two very different things.

"I need you to understand how it all fits together." The jeweler looked at her. Laura's eyes glistened with a fervent plea. "I have to tell you about this before I can be sure that you'll understand the weight that it carries."

"I understand the weight of death and the impact that it has."

"No, you need to understand the impact that _he_ has." Laura's voice held a bitter edge to it. "He was a force of nature that culminated over many years until it reached the eventual breaking point; a tidal wave that crashed upon a peaceful shore. You need to know who he was before you can understand."

_Her father…_

A sinking feeling stirred in the pit of Shanoa's stomach. Laura had said that her father was dead. Did she watch him die? Was that where this was going? If so, then what did that have to do with him killing a mouse?

"There's something else, not the climax, but another precursor," the jeweler said before Shanoa could pose any further questions.

_Laura trudged behind her father as they made for the line of trees that marked the border of the nearby woods. It was early spring and the air still held a slight chill from the waning winter, but the weather was warm enough that it didn't warrant heavy clothing. It had rained hard that morning which – much to Laura's dismay – turned dirt to mud and left giant puddles littered across the ground. She had successfully avoided the patches of water so far, but it had slowed her pace a considerable amount. Her father turned and called back to the girl._

"_You're going to get dirty today. Just accept that fact and get a move on." Laura made a face at him once his back was turned, but she quickened her gait. A voice inside of her screamed in protest; it would be so easy to turn around and run home, but there was no avoiding this excursion. Even if she ran it would only delay the inevitable. _

_Her father's signature black bow and a quiver full of arrows were strapped into a harness on his back. Laura carried her own smaller brown bow in a similar fashion. He had made the weapon about a year ago and had forced her to practice with it every day since. The ten-year-old was no stranger to a bow; archery had been woven into her life since before she could remember. It was only after the introduction of this new weapon that her father had grown obsessive over her abilities. She was a gifted marksman, but she had only shot at straw targets up until now._

_Laura made a pained sound when she stepped in a puddle of mud by accident. She paused a moment and attempted to shake the brown muck off her boot._

"_Is it much farther?" she asked as she shifted the weight of the bow on her back._

"_We're not even to the woods yet. Once we're there it could take some time before we actually manage to track down a deer," he said in an impassive voice. _

"_And then we're going to kill it?" Her question held an accusatory tone that he deflected with ease._

"_Yes, we are hunting after all. The whole point of the endeavor is to bring back game."_

"_Well, what if I don't want to kill an animal?" She pouted. Her father stopped in his tracks and turned around to face his daughter. Laura faltered in her step as he looked down at her. It was always unnerving when he studied her like this. He did not look at her as one looks at a child, rather he was a man poised in anticipation of battle and this girl was slated to be his adversary. _

"_Hold out your hands," he said. Laura groaned in response._

"_Dad…" She knew full well the speech he was about to delve into._

"_Hold out your hands, Laura," he said again. Laura sighed, but did as she was told. She raised her open hands and held them outstretched in front of her. "Look closely at them; at your palms and at your wrists." She brought them closer to her face. "Do you see the veins of blood that twist beneath the surface of your skin?"_

"_Yes, dad, I see them," she said in monotone._

"_You have been gifted with sacred blood. It is an honor that carries the burden of great purpose," he said with pride. "It does not come from your mother; rather I have passed it onto you. We are the descendants of the Belmont clan, and to my knowledge we are also the last of the bloodline. My parents and my siblings are dead. That leaves you as the sole heir to the Belmont legacy and, as such, you must learn to both fight and – if necessary – kill." _

_Laura was no stranger to this lecture. It was the root of every lesson he had given her. The glorification of this intangible destiny she had been born into, and Laura didn't even know what any of it meant. She decided if she was going to have to kill in the name of this "great purpose" then she at least wanted to know why._

"_Why do I have to learn all this?" Laura dared to ask. "What's so special about the Belmont clan?" For a split second the girl thought she saw a small smile creep into her father's expression. _

"_We are bound to uphold an ancient oath; a vow to 'kill the night'. We have long protected humanity from the forces of evil, and it is our sworn duty to fight the Dark Lord Dracula." He paused to let the magnitude of his words sink in._

"_Dracula?" She gave him a perplexed look. "I thought you didn't believe in him? Just last week you told Trevor he was only a myth."_

"_It is better for men to believe him a legend rather than a real power for them to seek out. The more his human servants yearn for him the more powerful and dangerous Dracula becomes." His eyes bore into Laura and the unwavering fortitude of deep amber rooted her in place. "Dracula is real, Laura, never doubt that fact. To doubt it will be your undoing."_

"_So I…" She gulped as a horrible understanding dawned on her. "I'm going to have to fight Dracula?" _

"_That I can't say." She couldn't determine if her father's words were meant to be a comfort, but they did little to assuage her fears. "I do not know if he'll return within your lifetime, and mark my words, he will return. Regardless, you must learn how to fight so that you may pass this knowledge onto your own children. We are a clan of warriors, and I have done my best to live up to the Belmont name. But if Dracula returns soon and I, for whatever reason, am unable to fight him, then you will have to stand against the Dark Lord in my stead."_

"_But I don't want to be a warrior." Laura tried to make it sound like a protest, but she could only muster the courage to say it in a meek voice._

"_Whether or not you want to be a warrior is irrelevant. You are a Belmont. You do not have the luxury of a choice."_

_Another protest flared in Laura's mind. It was a declaration that she would become the opposite of what a Belmont aspired to be, but she knew better than to say it out loud._

"_If being a Belmont is so important then why do we use mom's surname and not yours?" She asked the question more out of spite than genuine curiosity. Perhaps she hoped it could injure his pride._

"_The Dark Lord doesn't need a physical body for his influence to take effect," he said. "His servants still swarm in the darkness of the world. They will not hesitate to kill us in order to ensure the extinction of the Belmont line. Not even your youth will spare you from their blades. This is another reason why you must learn to fight, because even if you never have to stand against Dracula himself there are people who want you dead simply due to the fact that your blood carries the lineage of his adversaries. We use your mother's surname to protect our identity from the public eye, but if these servants ever find you, Laura, you're going to have to know how to defend yourself." _

_It was too much for Laura to comprehend all at once. Her father's heavy words swirled in her head and it took her a few moments to recall the conflict at hand._

"_I still don't want to kill an animal," she said. She almost considered pleading with him. Laura saw his patience run out as her words appeared to breach his breaking point._

"_Why are you so resistant?" His left eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "It's just a damn animal."_

"_But it's alive!" Laura started to shake. "I can't do it. I couldn't stand myself if I did. To know that I killed a creature… that it was alive, but now it will never, ever wake up because of me…" She couldn't tell him her deepest fear: to bear witness to a soul as it vacated a physical body. To look into a creature's eyes as it died. She couldn't' tell him about that._

"_That's nothing more than childhood foolishness. You can overcome it with the right persuasion." His tone did not leave the subject open for argument. Laura bit her tongue as he turned and they resumed their trek towards the woods. She could see the tension that snapped in the air between them._

_The forest had sprung back to life from its winter slumber and the pair settled into newly green underbrush as they broke past the line of trees. Laura remained silent as her father set about his lessons. He showed her the marks left behind by various kinds of wildlife as they came upon them: where an animal had rubbed against a tree, on the ground, or left some other form of imprint. They discovered a few places where an animal had grazed and he showed her how to both examine and use the type of bite to determine the species of animal that had eaten there. Most bites were the angled, clean-cuts typical of rodents while others were simply breaks in the foliage made by animal movement. They came upon a patch of mud studded with prints and her father grinned as he pointed to some rather large oval shapes pressed into the mud._

"_These belong to a deer," he said. He studied them and prodded one with the tips of his fingers. "They're fresh. See how deep they are? I'd wager the creature is close by. We'll move in silence from here on out." Laura followed his instructions as they began to stalk the deer._

_Laura's father had taught her how to maneuver silently through various types of terrain; underbrush being one of them. The girl often channeled her aptitude for stealth into avenues that gleaned some form of amusement (she took glee in sneaking around the village undetected and utilized the trick in games of hide and sneak) but now she grimaced as it became evident that this too held a darker purpose. Archery, stealth, and trap making had been taught to Laura with the intent to morph her into a silent and effective hunter. As she watched her father point out the familiar marks left behind by the deer it sunk in that she could add tracking to that ever expanding list of skills. _

_Perhaps he was right. Maybe she really was a Belmont._

_Her father slowed to a stop. His pause pulled the girl out of the potential mental quagmire. Laura crept up alongside him and gave her father a questioning look. He inclined his head towards something beyond a line of foliage that was too tall for her to see over. Laura reached out to part the leaves, but her father grabbed her wrist and shook his head. He guided her around an invisible perimeter until they found a gap big enough for Laura to see through._

_They were huddled on the edge of a large clearing. The open ground was covered by green grass and the occasional bush studded with colorful berries. A sizeable pond lay on the opposite side of the clearing, but what grabbed Laura's attention was the large buck that drank from the pool. The beast seemed unaware that he was being watched. The buck's position exposed his right side to the hidden pair. Laura looked up at her father and she silently asked for guidance. He nodded and tapped his left index finger against his temple._

'_Think first.' His actions conveyed the words in lieu of speech. He then pointed to the buck. 'Study your prey.' Laura gulped and turned her attention back to the beast. Over the course of the past week her father had instructed her repeatedly on how she should approach the kill._

"_Target the animal's vitals." His words replayed in her mind. "If you can't kill it with one shot then you at least want to severely wound it. If your mark is a deer the quartering away shot works best. You should aim to send the arrow through the deer's ribs towards the opposite shoulder."_

_Laura chewed on her bottom lip as she retrieved her bow from its harness. She could do this. It was the same routine as target practice back home. Laura took into account the strength of the breeze and the distance between herself and the buck. It was close – no more than twenty meters away – and she was downwind of the animal. The girl pulled an arrow from her quiver and closed her eyes in an attempt to calm her nerves._

_She could do this. It was just another straw target._

_Laura notched the arrow, opened her eyes, and took aim at the deer. She hesitated, her breath came hard, but her arm remained steady even as terror welled in her chest. The longer she looked at the buck the harder it was to ignore the truth. This was a living creature, a peaceful and majestic beast, and what had it done to deserve its imminent death? Nothing, it was as innocent as – _

_She saw the dead mouse gripped in her father's hand. Its neck twisted to such a violent degree she thought its head was about to pop off._

_She must have done something to alert the buck to her presence – made a sound or a sudden movement – and its head shot up. The buck's ears flexed as it turned and looked right at her. Laura was paralyzed. A shared fear gleamed in both the eyes of the hunter and the hunted._

_The buck turned to bolt and in a panic Laura released the arrow. The projectile whirled through the air and plunged deep into the deer's side. She heart a pained, high-pitched bleat as the deer buckled to the ground._

"_Excellent shot! You must have pierced it between the ribs!" Her father sounded almost giddy. Laura simply stared in wide-eyed astonishment at the fallen buck. The deer was still alive, but it moved with slight and jerky motions. She thought she saw a stream of blood trickle out of its open mouth. "Rouse yourself, Laura! The buck's still kicking!" Her father's voice jarred the girl out of her stupor and she scrambled to her feet and followed him into the clearing. He jogged over to the wounded animal while she hung back. Laura could hear the buck's pained wheezes even from this distance. Bile rose in her throat as she approached the deer. _

"_You punctured its right lung. A damn good first shot." Her father was actually smiling. Laura's eyes sought the arrow and she winced as it rose and fell with the buck's every intake and exhale. In her peripheral vision she saw her father unsheathe the large hunting knife strapped to his belt. She turned and he extended the handle of the blade towards her. "Now it's time to finish it."_

"_No." Laura shook her head. She could hardly manage to harm the beast from a distance, but to actually feel it die? "I can't do it. You'll have to!"_

"_Laura…" The harsh edge returned to her father's voice._

"_I can't do it!" The girl began to sob. His groaned and his face knotted in agitation._

"_What makes you think that's going to change a damn thing? You may not deliver the killing blow, but it is naïve to think that lack of action absolves you of all responsibility. You see that arrow?" He pointed to the projectile buried in the buck's ribcage. "That's __**your**__ arrow. You put it there by your own hand. It is the reason why this buck is dying. A blade will just ensure that its inevitable death comes quicker."_

"_I can't." Large tears streamed down her cheeks, but Laura could not recall when she had started crying. "I can't kill…"_

"_You already have, Laura." Her father's voice softened unexpectedly. He looked at her then as he would a frightened child: for what she truly was. "Don't think of me as a monster. Don't think that I brought you out here to turn you into a monster too. There is a noble reason behind everything we do, but our fortitude requires sacrifice. Now, be noble and put the poor buck out of its misery." His words were hard pressed to alleviate the guilt that pounded through her, but if it would help…_

_Laura looked down at the buck. Its wild eyes had been consumed by the black abyss of its dilated pupils. She could feel those eyes find her own and they stared up at her with a mixture of terror and agonizing pain. Laura closed her eyes against it and swallowed her bile. She had caused the buck's suffering, but she could also end it. She just had to be strong enough._

"_Ok." Laura took the knife from her father. Tears obscured her vision as she knelt down beside the heaving buck. The next few moments passed in a dreamy haze. Her father told her where she should stab the deer and Laura rested the blade over the specified area, though her body moved without conscious effort. She didn't even realize her hesitation until her father's voice shook her universe once again._

"_Laura...!" _

_She squeezed her eyes shut, raised the knife above her head, and drove it downwards in one swift motion. Laura felt the beast's flesh resist and then yield before the blade. She plunged the knife in to the hilt, felt the buck shudder in her hands, heard its dying bleat, and then it fell limp. Laura continued to press her weight against the knife. She did not cease until her father placed a hand on her shoulder and she lurched backwards. Laura's eyes remained sealed shut as she scrambled away from the body._

_She had killed a magnificent creature. She had taken its life with her own hands, but for what purpose? For the sake of an ancient oath that she wanted no part of? As an effort to appease her father's demands? Or had some deeper, primal part of her yearned to kill?_

_None of those reasons were just, and Laura knew it._

"_We're going to be eating venison for a while." Her father's voice broke through the din of her thoughts even as the girl began to sob again. "An excellent first kill."_

Laura fell silent. The only sounds that remained were the crack and pop of the fire and the thrum of insects in the nighttime air. There was a lot contained within that memory. More revelations than Shanoa had anticipated, and her mind reeled as she tried to asses where to begin. When she looked at Laura's vacant expression, however, the younger woman realized what she needed to do.

The jeweler stared intently at the bloody cloth twisted around her fingers. Her pupils had dilated to the point where they appeared to engulf her irises in their blackness. A flicker of the buck's soul echoed in those depths.

"_There's something else, not the climax, but another precursor."_

Laura still had one more story to tell. Shanoa wrapped her hands around Laura's tense fingers and slowly untangled the cloth from her grasp. The jeweler watched Shanoa as she worked. Her eyes never left the bloodied strip as the younger woman pulled it free and threw it into the fire. Laura stared into the flames as they consumed the rag. Shanoa waited patiently until, at last, her friend turned to look her in the eyes.

"Laura, sometimes you need to just let it all go." Shanoa's voice held a soothing cadence; a melody the warrior had not expected. Laura exhaled a ragged breath.

"I was twelve when… _it_ happened…

_Laura bolted upright with a start. The sound of a loud crash echoed in her ears as she was wrenched from sleep. Her instincts screamed with an unnerving realization: there was something in the house. It was foreign, unknown, and – most of all – Laura should fear it._

_Her room was blanketed in inky darkness and she reached blindly across her bedside table. She knocked the oil lamp a few times before her hand found the box of matches she sought. Laura struck a match and lit the wick of the lamp; the flickering flame cast long shadows over the floor. She slid out of bed to investigate the source of the troublesome noise. Laura did not make a sound as she crept across the floorboards and pressed her ear against her closed bedroom door. She held her breath and waited; poised to catch any sign of movement outside. After a few tense moments the girl heard the telltale sound of heavy grunting and there was another slam as something collided with a hard surface._

_Staying huddled in her room was the safest course of action, but Laura's curiosity was quick to override her rationality. She at least wanted to know the nature of this potential threat. The girl was alone on the first floor, and if her parents were not aware of the intrusion then she would have to devise some way of alerting them. The sounds appeared to be coming from the living room. Laura slunk into the dark hallway to investigate. _

_She made her way down the corridor with practiced stealth. Even in the darkness she was able to maneuver around the floorboards that were prone to creak and moan. Laura reached the end of the hallway in complete silence and she peered around a bend in the wall to glance into the large living room._

_Wood burned in a glass front stove on the opposite side of the room; the flames gave off just enough light for her to see the shadowy forms of two figures as they grappled before it. Laura could not make out any facial details, but she could tell by their build that both figures were male. One of the men was at least a foot taller than the other and he overpowered his smaller opponent with relative ease. They were too caught up in their scuffle to notice Laura's presence. _

_The girl tried to determine a course of action, but she was starved for options. She couldn't call out for her parents, nor could she risk crossing the room to get to the staircase. She was too small to fight either of the men on her own, let alone both at the same time. _

_She winced as the larger man landed a savage punch to his opponent's face. The brawler buckled to his knees in a daze. Laura remained frozen in place as the taller figure wrapped his hands around his opponent's neck and lifted him off the floor. He gagged and clawed at the brute's arms, but that only prompted the aggressor to squeeze tighter. The choking man's face turned towards Laura and she caught a glimpse of his features in the light. She didn't recognize him, but his expression was all too familiar. His eyes wild with pain and fear as his chest heaved for want of air._

_All three of them knew what would happen next._

_Laura flinched at the sound of a sickening snap as the stranger's head was twisted to an unnatural degree. She saw the man's soul flash in his eyes as his body tensed, only to be banished as he fell limp in the brute's hands. In one brief instant it was over. It took Laura a moment to realize what she had just witnessed._

_The stranger was dead._

_Laura cried out despite herself. She raised her hands to try and cover her mouth, but it was too late. The brute had heard her and turned to face the girl. _

"_Laura?" A familiar voice spoke her name in bewilderment. The sound of it made her blood run cold._

_It was her father. The sight of him in that moment of understanding seared itself into her mind. He stood in the middle of that familiar room, his silhouette ringed by the orange glow emitted by the burning wood, with a dead man clutched in his powerful grip. He had snapped the stranger's neck. An action as easily performed on a man as it was on a mouse._

"_Laura?" He took a step towards her. She scurried backwards until she was pressed against the opposite wall. Her eyes never left the dead man as her father released his hold. The body crumpled to the floor in a silent heap. It was no longer a person; just a lump of dead flesh and bone._

_Her father had killed a man, and she had watched him do it. Laura saw him kill another human being and it had all been so simple. It was too incredibly simple._

_He took another tentative step towards her and Laura screamed at the top of her lungs._

There was a long pause as the weight of Laura's words hung heavy in the air between them. Shanoa tried to come up with something to say, but was only able to muster the simplest of condolences.

"I'm sorry." The warrior's soft voice broke the silence. "I wish I had something more eloquent to say, but I'm sorry you had to see something like that."

"There's nothing for you to apologize for." Laura sighed. "That's one of the main reasons why I've been so hesitant to tell you. I didn't want you to feel obligated to console me."

"I looked like him, didn't I?" Shanoa asked. "I looked like your father when I killed those bandits."

"You…" Laura's brow furrowed and she chose her next words with care. "I'm not a warrior, Shanoa." The jeweler met her friend's gaze and Shanoa was struck by the vulnerability in Laura's eyes. "I may be descended from the Belmonts, but I am not a killer. It was hard enough for me to take the life of an animal. Dracula may be a monster, but he has the face of a man. He has servants who are men, and even if I could justify their deaths as serving some 'greater good' I would break beneath the weight of their blood. I can't take a human life. I lack the capability to do so. The truth is, when I saw you in that clearing, you didn't look like my father. You looked like everything he wanted me to be." Laura's eyes turned back to the crackling fire. "You looked like everything I've been trying to run from."

"But you've seen me fight before. I dealt my fair share of death when I escorted you back to Wygol after I found you in the mountains."

"You slew monsters then, but these were men." The jeweler shook her head. "There's a world of difference."

"I know." Shanoa absent-mindedly reached out and pushed a strand of curly hair that had fallen across Laura's face behind the jeweler's ear. "It's rather strange when I think about it. In a way we were raised to fulfill the same purpose, yet we became two completely different people."

"Has fighting always been easy for you?" Laura asked.

"For the most part." The warrior shrugged.

"Why?"

"It just… has." Shanoa's gaze fell to her hands. "It could be because I was raised in a secluded environment where everyone was a warrior in some capacity. I was steeped in combat since the day I first set foot inside Ecclesia's fortress. That path was expected of me." Her eyes shifted up to meet Laura's. "But it was also expected of you. Yet while I could pick up a bow and kill a living creature it was something you couldn't do. So maybe it's not so much a matter of choice as it is who we are at heart. Perhaps I was simply born to be a fighter – a warrior – while you were meant for something else."

"Meant for something else?" Laura scoffed at the notion. "My father would be disgusted if he could see me now." Her tone turned sour and she pulled her knees to her chest. "I'm a fashion-obsessed jeweler who prefers to spend her time reading and in turn allowing all his training to go to waste. This is his daughter: a failed Belmont hunter who stood by and watched as another slew Dracula in her place."

"He was blind to your worth." Shanoa pushed against the bitterness in Laura's expression. "And I think you're blind to it as well. Remember that morning we were caught outside in the thunderstorm?"

"Yes…"

"Do you remember what I said? Or rather, what I pleaded?"

"Of course." Laura nodded. "How could I forget?"

"_Please don't be a lie." In her broken state Shanoa could not suppress that overwhelming fear. "I can't lose anyone else; so please…" She choked again on her own emotions. "Please don't let this be another lie."_

"_I am not a lie." The jeweler moved her hands up to cradle Shanoa's face and she urged the terrified woman to look her in the eyes again. Shanoa gasped at the unwavering resolve reflected in their amber hue. "You can feel my hands, you can see my face, and it's all real. I'm right here and I don't plan on ever going away. I don't abandon the people I care about."_

"_Please… please promise me." _

_Laura smiled and kissed her friend on the forehead._

"_I promise."_

The unspoken memory hovered between them; an invisible tether that linked the two women together.

"I made a promise to you," the jeweler said.

"And _that_ is who you are, Laura." Shanoa clasped her friend's hands again. "You fight the most difficult battle of all: the battle for people's souls. Compared to that, everything I've ever done – including facing Dracula – has been so simple."

"How is slaying the Dark Lord a simple feat?" Laura gave the younger woman a quizzical look.

"Because what I hope to achieve is obvious: slay my enemy. It's the same goal every time I face an opponent. How I go about it varies each time, but that singular goal remains unchanged. I know a thousand different ways to take a life, but you're blessed with the knowledge of how to save one." Shanoa smiled at her. She did not know where these words had come from. They flowed from her with ease, and only when the warrior paused did she feel awkward hesitation. She felt her cheeks fluster and she fidgeted. "I mean, I can fumble my way through social interactions and somehow endear myself to an entire village, but when it comes to the core grit of emotional turmoil, well, I'm no good at that."

"You're doing a wonderful job right now." Laura's eyes shone with infinite fondness. Shanoa's blush grew more pronounced at the praise.

"This is different, though," the now meek warrior said. "I'm just relaying what I feel. When it comes to navigating through other people's emotions I get all tied up, but not you. Ever since we first met you've been determined to pull me back from whatever precipice I dangled over. Even when I tried to push you away you didn't let me go. You ran after me, and helped me start to piece my life back together. And you're still here."

"I keep my promises." Laura gave the warrior a warm smile. "Never forget that."

"And you have your own role to play. Your father couldn't see it, but I do. Never forget that, either."

That god-forsaken look had returned to Laura's eyes. The look that made Shanoa want to scream, but instead her throat dried up as if to spite its master.

"I did mean it, you know," Laura said after a few rapid heartbeats. The warrior gave her a confused look and she clarified. "When I thanked you earlier. There may be all this complicated emotional mess surrounding it, but thank you for saving me." The damning look transformed into one of relief and gratitude, yet the knot remained in Shanoa's chest.

"I'm just returning the favor," she replied with the honest truth.

"What do you mean?" Laura asked. The warrior hesitated a moment. She had not expected the topic to come up in their conversation, but it was a fault she knew she could share.

"There was a part of me that wished to die alongside Albus. I wanted to bury myself within the crumbling castle because the weight of the truth felt too great for me to bear living with." She should have felt some amount of shame at the admission. Instead she felt immense relief. "When I stood before Dracula I held the belief that I had nothing left but my duty to vanquish him. However, you and Albus showed me that I was more than an empty Blade. You showed me how wrong that dark desire was."

Shanoa's voice faded away and she opted to let her expression speak the wealth of gratitude that she couldn't properly convey. Laura deserved to know this, and so much more.

A strange warmth spread through Shanoa as the jeweler held her gaze. She could not identify what it was, but as the warmth engulfed the warrior she felt her defenses give way before it. All the emotions she had ignored earlier crashed through the barricades in a torrential wave.

_Another person I love._

This woman was everything she wanted.

Shanoa's gaze shifted of its own accord, down to Laura's lips, and a singular thought drove everything else from her mind.

_I could kiss her._ Shanoa's heart pounded in her chest. The rhythmic thrum was so loud it echoed in her ears. _It'd be so easy to just kiss her…_

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> most of this chapter was left intact. I edited their conversation to reflect the altered events of the previous chapter, but otherwise all of the alterations were cosmetic.

While Laura's backstory is of my own creation it's another aspect of this fic that's directly based on game canon. Laura, true to her word, does not talk much about herself in-game, but after you complete her side quests she shares this interesting tidbit.

"Laura: Trying so hard to touch your heart... It taught me a few things about mine. I ran away once. My master kept pointing out my faults, and I ran away from him, but my faults came with me. You helped me get rid of them. I know what good I can do now, though. For my work, and for him."

This paragraph has been central to my development of Laura's personal history. She's running away from personal faults and an overbearing "master", though there's a lot more included in my version of things than what I revealed in this chapter. Again, Konami remains vague on the details, but it's more than enough to work with.


	12. A Thousand Burning Questions

Chapter Twelve

_A Thousand Burning Questions_

The campfire had burned down to a bed of embers as the night progressed. The soft aura of red light pulsed with each small gust of wind. Shanoa lay on her side as she stared intently at the waning fire. She had given up on sleep at least an hour earlier, but that trivial acceptance did little to ease the thoughts that plagued her. She'd hoped that focusing on the dancing light would lull her into a restful slumber, but it seemed that the more she tried to avoid fixating her attention on her sleeping friend the more attune she became to Laura's every slight movement. Even the soft sound of the jeweler's inhale and exhale reverberated as loud as thunder. Shanoa wondered if her own senses had conspired to mock her.

There she lay, awake and exhausted, as she focused on the only visual stimulation available in an attempt to quell the emotions that raged inside her. She kept replaying the day in her head: the bandits, her Glyphs, that damn spark, and their conversation by the fire. It was an inter-connected string of events that culminated in a moment that defied explanation.

'_Another person I love.'_

_This woman was everything she wanted._

_Shanoa's gaze shifted of its own accord, down to Laura's lips, and a singular thought drove everything else from her mind._

'_I could kiss her.' Shanoa's heart pounded in her chest. The rhythmic thrum was so loud it echoed in her ears. 'It'd be so easy to just kiss her…'_

_Wait- __**kiss**__ her?_

"_Shanoa?" The sound of Laura's voice snapped her out of the trance. "Are you all right?"_

"_Yeah, I'm… fine," the warrior said as she suppressed a blush that threatened to form on her cheeks. That peculiar warmth inside of her had flared and a steady burn coursed through Shanoa's gut. "I think I'm just a bit overwhelmed. It's been a long day." It was a vague statement, but honest. Shanoa closed her eyes and held a hand against her forehead._

'_Kiss her? What the hell is wrong with me?'_

"_It's late, and I'm sure exhaustion doesn't help," Laura said. "We should get some rest."_

"_That sounds like a good idea." She watched as the jeweler stood up, grabbed her bedroll, and laid it out by the fire. "I'm honored that you trust me enough to tell me about your father," the warrior said after a pause._

"_You tell me intimate details about your life all the time," Laura said with an amused chuckle. "I guess we're doomed to constantly return each other's favors."_

_Intimate details; it was interesting how appropriate that choice of phrase was._

"_Laura…" The older woman turned to face her and Shanoa felt her tongue disintegrate in her mouth._

"_Yes?" the jeweler asked._

"… _It's nothing."_

It was far from nothing. A fire burned inside of her and Shanoa was hard-pressed to come up with a means to sate it. The sheer power of the blaze terrified her. It was a force that both succeeded in reclaiming her lost Glyphs and had torn down every barrier she erected against it. The fire drove her to a fervent yearning for something that was impossible.

_Another person I love._

What kind of love was it? What kind of love made a person yearn to kiss another? Instilled a desire to reach out and touch them; caused you to burn for them?

She had to admit that the answer was obvious, but she could not discern how such an attraction had developed. What had changed in their relationship? What in Shanoa herself had changed? It was true that she'd never had a friend like Laura before. Hell, the only friend she'd had in her entire life was Albus, but they shared a familial love. Any friendship outside that realm was new to her. There was a chance that she was reading too much into her emotions. Perhaps she had misinterpreted her need for Laura's companionship as a desire for something more.

But that didn't explain the steady burn.

Too many questions roared inside her head. She had to step back and look at this from a rational perspective. What did she know of romantic love? Her understanding was limited at best; what little she _did_ know was gleaned from the manuscripts she sequestered from the blacklisted section of Ecclesia's archives. The Order had a strict policy concerning "hedonistic affairs" and frowned upon texts that promoted uncouth behavior. In the end, the restrictions had served to fuel Shanoa's curiosity rather than extinguish it.

She would read the manuscripts alone in her room at night. They all described romance as a heated dance that built up to a night of passion and ecstasy, but how did that translate into real life? What did romance look like in the world beyond the pages of text? If the manuscripts were accurate with the "fire" metaphors then perhaps she _was_ feeling some form of lustful attraction, but that still made no sense. She was a woman, and Laura was a woman. Was it even possible for her to feel that way towards another female?

Shanoa cursed Ecclesia for the umpteenth time. It seemed that there were no bounds to her ignorance. This was far from the first time she had found herself in a predicament regarding romance and – more specifically – sex. None of her teachers had taken the time to explain to her just what sex was. Even after she had begun to bleed any questions she posed on the subject earned her a stern reprimand. Shanoa learned to remain silent and turned to the forbidden books for answers, but the material was confusing without the proper background. In the end, there was only one person she could rely on to give her an honest answer.

"_Just what is sex, anyway?" Shanoa asked as she scanned the cards in her hand. Once they had been assigned private rooms she and Albus no longer needed to crawl under the staircase to indulge in games of Cribbage. The teenagers sat on the floor in Albus' room as they played; an over-stacked plate of snacks placed between them. Albus nearly choked on a biscuit and his eyeballs almost popped out of his skull._

"_Come again?" He managed to ask after he had swallowed._

"_What is sex?" She placed more emphasis on her words. Albus thumped his chest and coughed to try and dislodge a few crumbs that had remained stuck in his throat._

"_Why are you asking me?" He fidgeted and attempted to hide his face behind his cards._

"_Because no one will explain it to me." Shanoa pouted. "It doesn't matter who I ask. They all tell me that sex is forbidden and I'm better off not knowing."_

"_So then why do you want to know?" Albus kept his face hidden. Shanoa reached out and pushed his cards aside. "Hey-!"_

"_Don't tell me you agree with them!" She glared at her brother._

"_Of course not!" He held up his hands, but made sure to keep his cards out of sight. "I'm just curious as to why you're intent on pursuing the matter. What's got you interested in… sex?"_

"_I, uh, have a habit of sneaking blacklisted books back to my room." Shanoa blushed._

"_How naughty of you!" Albus exclaimed with an air of fake incredulity. "I should report this crime to Barlowe –"_

"_Stop teasing me, Albus! I'm trying to be serious!" She pushed up her bottom lip and shot him an accusatory glare._

"_Look, this is… I really…" Albus squirmed. "God damn it, Shanoa, this should not be a conversation a brother has to have with his sister."_

"_What's so terrible about sex? Why is everyone so afraid of it?" Shanoa was at her wit's end. It seemed that everyone in the world but her knew what sex was._

"_That's not an easy question to answer." He sighed as he resigned himself to his fate. "What have you gleaned from those books of yours?"_

"_They have a tendency to overuse flowery metaphors so I'm never quite sure what they're talking about. And when I say 'flowery' I mean it literally. 'Yielding petals of womanhood' is one of the most common phrases used- and __**why**__ are you blushing?" Albus' face had turned the deepest shade of red she'd ever seen._

"_That's… actually quite a vivid description," he said under his breath._

"_So I have petals hidden somewhere on my body?" She was perplexed by his statement. No part of her anatomy was comparable to a flower. Unless they spoke of something she hadn't seen or studied before. _

"_Sort of," Albus said with a groan. "It… I guess it depends on how you look at it."_

"_Look at what?"_

"_Have you ever looked, you know," his voice dropped to a whisper, "down there?" Shanoa raised an eyebrow in confusion and Albus pointed between her legs._

"_I've tried, yes, but it's not exactly easy. What does that have to do with sex?"_

"_Well, kind of everything." Albus continued to maneuver around a more in-depth explanation._

"_So sex has to do with whatever is between a person's legs?" Shanoa glanced down at herself. "I bleed from there sometimes, though. It doesn't hurt, but still."_

"_That only happens to girls. Guys are different." He paused as a thought struck him. "You DO know that girls and boys are 'different', right?"_

"_Yes, Albus, I do." She rolled her eyes at him. Albus held his hands up in a defensive gesture._

"_I just wanted to make sure!"_

"_That's about it, though. I don't know WHAT is different, just that we are." Shanoa sighed, frustrated with her own naivety. Albus made a few jerky movements as he contemplated his next course of action. He seemed to make up his mind and grabbed the piece of paper they had been using to keep score. Albus picked up a pencil and began to draw on the blank side of the sheet. "What are you doing?" Shanoa leaned over to try and get a better look at what he was drawing._

"_There's no easy way for me to describe this so I'm just going to draw it for you." His face flushed again as he spoke._

"_Draw what?" If Shanoa wasn't so irked by her lack of insight she would have found Albus' constant embarrassment rather comical._

"_You'll see." Albus wasn't the best artist in the world, but he was competent enough with a pencil. He could at least render an accurate representation of his chosen subject. What Albus drew, however, were two of the strangest looking objects Shanoa had ever seen. The more the girl studied them the greater an enigma they became. "These are the human genitalia." Albus enlightened her. His blush spread to his ears as he pointed at the oval-shaped figure. "This is – ahem – the vagina."_

"_The what?" Shanoa tilted her head as she studied the drawing._

"_It's what's between a girl's legs." Shanoa stared at the drawing for a bit before her gaze fell once again to her groin._

"_I don't believe you."_

"_I know it looks weird, but it's true." Albus gulped. "The outside of… of the vagina is what those books are referring to when they talk about 'yielding petals'."_

"_Yielding to what? Is there something in there?" she asked. Albus was quiet for a solid minute as he tried to formulate the most appropriate response to her question._

"_It's basically another orifice," he said at last. "Like your mouth, for example, it's an opening to a tunnel." Shanoa glanced at the second drawing. It depicted a rod-shaped… thing._

"_I don't like where this is going," she said under her breath._

"_That is the male reproductive organ." Albus looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up. "It's called the penis."_

"_So that's what it looks like. Wait." Shanoa's eyes widened as a horrifying thought occurred to her. "Sex… they don't…" Albus winced._

"_The man puts his penis inside the woman's vagina-" he said in a single breath._

"_Augh!" Shanoa cringed at the very idea of it._

"_You wanted to know!"_

"_It's just." Her mouth moved wordlessly for a moment. "Well, how big is the penis?" Albus cleared his throat and tugged on the collar of his shirt._

"_That varies from man to man."_

"_What's the average?"_

"_Jesus, Shanoa, I don't know! It's not like I go around asking other guys how big they are!"_

"_Well what about yours?" she asked. Albus physically reeled at her question._

"_That's- no! Shanoa, no!" He shook his head vehemently._

"_What?"_

"_I am __**not**__ telling you that! You're my sister, I just… no!" He continued to shake his head._

"_I just want to know how big these things are; especially if they're supposed to fit inside me!" _

"_Look," he said in a more controlled tone. "If I had to venture a guess then I'd say you should expect something along the lines of… I think six inches is the norm?"_

"_What?" Shanoa gaped at him._

"_That's a fairly realistic estimate." _

"_And women voluntarily put these… __**things**__ inside their bodies?" She shuddered at the mental image that thought provoked._

"_Well, yes…" Albus shrugged._

"_And they like it?"_

"_That seems to be the general consensus."_

"_So what is the point of this? Why do people even have sex in the first place? Is it just because it feels good?" Shanoa tried to wrap her head around the practice. The entire thing just sounded so uncomfortable._

"_People have sex because it feels good, yes, but there's more to it than physical pleasure. Sex is how people reproduce and make more tiny humans." Albus' blush began to recede. "People also have sex when they're in love."_

"_Why?"_

"_Do you want my truthful opinion on this matter?" he asked in a serious tone. Shanoa nodded. "And you promise not to make fun of me for it?"_

"_Cross my heart."_

"_You see." He paused for a moment. "Sex, by its very nature, is personal and intimate. It requires you to open yourself completely to the other person. It's a vulnerable act, and to engage in it with someone else is a declaration of trust." Albus' demeanor changed as he spoke. He began to look less like a flustered boy and more like the young adult he was. "Sex is a beautiful, raw connection between two people. It creates a kind of bond. In these books of yours are the couples in love with each other before they have sex?"_

"_Of course." Every manuscript made an explicit point of the shared passion between the characters._

"_Then you've already seen what sex should be: a consummation of love between individuals. In my opinion making love is something that should be glorified, not bogged down with a sinful label."_

"_If sex is so beautiful then why do people deem it a sin?" Shanoa was a bit surprised at how difficult a subject it was to traverse._

"_It's not sex, per se; rather it's lust that's considered to be one of humanity's greatest vices." _

"_Isn't lust the drive to have sex?" she asked. Albus gave her a quizzical look and she shrugged. "The books make it clear enough what that word means."_

"_Lust as a vice has more to do with having sex simply for the physical pleasure. Sex brings with it a kind of euphoric release, the pursuit of which can drive both men and women to wicked places." His expression turned grim._

"_Release…" Shanoa pondered the word choice._

"_When you have sex there's a pleasurable tension that builds inside your body until it reaches an apex and is released all at once."_

"_Yes, the books are also fond of describing the 'peak of ecstasy'," she mused. "Is that why people don't want me to know about sex? Are they worried that I'll become lustful?"_

"_I'd wager that's the reason." Albus nodded. "Perhaps the elders decided you should be kept in the dark about such matters. It would at least ensure that if you do experience lust you won't know how to identify and subsequently indulge it."_

"_Were you forbidden from learning about sex?" she asked._

"_No, actually, they don't seem to care if I know what sex is." Albus frowned at his sister's sullen expression. "Then again I'm not the Blade. They might be trying to keep you unsullied by sin."_

"_Sometimes I hate being the Blade," she dared to say out loud. "Sometimes I wish this great destiny didn't rest on my shoulders. I just want to be treated like everyone else."_

"_I know, Shanoa." Albus pushed the drawing to the side and pulled her into an embrace. "I know."_

She had always interpreted Albus' explanation as the core truth of the subject. From then on, whenever she asked him for clarification regarding something of a sexual nature Albus always took the time to insist that making love was to be rejoiced. His words instilled in her the belief that sex – in its purest form – was a beautiful connection between two people. Was that what she yearned for? Did she wish to have that kind of connection with Laura?

Shanoa had never lusted after anyone before. Albus would often tease her when they made their rare excursions outside the confines of the fortress. If they encountered a handsome young man Albus would try and coax the timid warrior into striking up a conversation with the stranger. Shanoa had indulged him once or twice, but she always walked away disinterested. The men were unknowable enigmas, and none of them had ever struck her as beautiful. She agreed that they were handsome, but not beautiful.

Laura, on the other hand…

'_She's beautiful.'_

_Something deep within the warrior shifted and – for the first time – she realized how all-encompassing that description was. Laura was physically beautiful, there was no denying that fact, but there was more to it than her outward appearance. The jeweler possessed a heart that burned with unwavering conviction and a kind of strength that Shanoa had, before now, only observed in Albus._

The bandits had sought to desecrate her beauty. They endeavored to tear her flesh asunder with their vile marks. They aimed to scar more than just her body. And Shanoa…

_Another person I love._

Shanoa had refused to let them destroy the woman she loved. It was that love that had given her the conviction to reclaim her Glyphs; not fury or desperation, but love.

Then this feeling was lust, after all.

Where did she go from here? She had no intention to doom herself to an unceasing visceral fire. Should she discuss it with Laura? As soon as the thought occurred to her Shanoa pushed it aside in a wave of fear. She couldn't tell her friend about this. The warrior didn't even know if such feelings toward another woman were natural. Albus' lessons and the books had only described couples comprised of one man and one woman. She wasn't even sure if two people of the same gender could have sex.

And still, was that what she truly wanted?

There were too many unknown variables at play. As it stood Laura didn't need to know. Shanoa had already shaken her enough when she killed the bandits, and the added revelation of the warrior's strange feelings threatened to exacerbate things. Worse, if Laura was disgusted by it…

_No,_ conviction surged through Shanoa, _I won't let that happen._

Pursuing this posed too much of a risk. It was safer to bury the yearning and attempt to forget about it. She would remain Laura's close friend and nothing more.

_Nothing more._ Shanoa clutched her stomach as another onslaught of desire coursed through her in protest of the decision. _Nothing more._

A strong gust of wind at last extinguished the glowing embers. The soft light receded and allowed the thick black night to swallow her up.

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes: <strong>this is a short chapter, but one I thoroughly enjoy. I always loved the banter between Shanoa and Albus. In general it's a lot of fun to write sibling interactions so I tend to jump on the chance to do so. That scene echoed some conversations my own siblings and I had when we were younger. Sex can be an awkward subject between family members.

At this point in the original version I had started to fall prey to repetition. I don't know when that shift in my writing style happened, but it remained a consistent problem throughout the rest of the first draft.


	13. The Space Between

Chapter Thirteen

_The Space Between_

Shanoa awoke to the scent of a delicious aroma. Her eyelids fluttered and she rolled over towards the source of the smell. She lay still for several minutes as the scent slowly grew stronger. Once she felt sufficiently awake Shanoa opened her eyes. Laura was cooking something in a pan over a small fire. That was no doubt what smelled so good. The warrior yawned and stretched her arms above her head. She remembered watching the fire go out, but she must have fallen asleep sometime after that. Laura looked over at her as Shanoa sat up on her mat.

"Did I wake you?" the jeweler asked. Shanoa shook her head.

"You didn't, but the food did." The younger woman stood up and shook the morning dew off her blanket. "What are you cooking? It smells wonderful."

"It's nothing special." Laura shrugged. "I just threw a few things together." The warrior folded her blanket and placed it on top of her mat before she walked over to the fire to inspect the meal-in-progress. A few large slices of dried ham and some chopped up vegetables simmered inside the pan. Shanoa's stomach growled as she stared at the food. She ignored her hunger for the moment and glanced up at the sun. It was well past dawn, but the star had yet to ascend above the treetops. "I didn't want to disturb you. After what happened yesterday I figured you needed a good rest."

"How long have you been awake?" Shanoa asked.

"I woke up around dawn."

"Did you have trouble sleeping?" Yesterday had been rough for both of them, after all. If something was bothering her friend she wanted to know.

"No, I think I've simply re-adjusted to the wild life. Sometimes our hunts would last for days and I learned to get sleep whenever I had the chance. We'd be on the move at first light regardless of how rested we were." Laura smirked, but there was an intense bitterness behind the jeweler's eyes. Shanoa hated to see spite in her expression.

"Well, that was fast. At this rate you'll transform into an Amazonian warrior before we reach Baia." She attempted to lighten the mood. "Soon you'll be running through the woods, getting dirty, wearing ragged clothes that haven't been washed for months-"

"It's not wise to tease the cook." Laura swatted her friend's forearm with the back of her hand. "Keep that up and I might be inclined to put something unpleasant in your food while you're not looking." Shanoa made an over exaggerated gasp.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, wouldn't I?" Laura shot the warrior a sly grin. "There's a mushroom native to this area that gives you horrible indigestion. You'd be out of commission for days." Shanoa shook her head.

"I'm surprised you'd get this devious before I even made a joke about your hair."

"The mushroom is just a petty threat. I get downright murderous when you bring my hair into the picture," Laura said with a wink. Shanoa couldn't help but smile.

"I'll have to keep that in mind." Their banter seemed to have banished the anger from Laura's expression. The warrior allowed herself a moment of pride in her success. Her shyness had the tendency to restrict her sense of humor. Albus was often the sole audience for her jokes, but now there was someone else who made her feel at ease. All she had to do was keep things the way they were. Shanoa's stomach growled again. "How long until the food is ready?"

"It should only be another minute or two. You can grab a couple of tins from my pack in the meantime." Shanoa complied with her request as Laura turned over the meat to make sure it was thoroughly cooked.

They divided the food once it was finished cooking. Laura gave the younger woman a larger helping. They had quickly discovered that, of the two of them, Shanoa had the bigger appetite. The warrior waited until Laura was seated before she pounced on her meal. Laura watched with thinly veiled amusement as Shanoa inhaled her food.

"You better slow down before you choke," she said. The warrior winced and swallowed her current mouthful.

"Sorry, I forget my manners sometimes."

"I'm the last person on Earth who'd judge you over something as trivial as table manners. Besides, we happen to be lacking a table." Laura chuckled at her own joke.

"This food is delicious. I don't know how you manage to be so good at so many different things," Shanoa said before she took another large bite. A slight blush formed on Laura's cheeks at the compliment.

"I'm not _that_ good a cook. My mother just taught me the basics. I can manage a simple meal, but anything elaborate is beyond me."

"That's still impressive." Shanoa gave her a quick smile in-between bites. Laura returned the smile, but continued to watch her.

"Do you cook?" she asked once the warrior had cleaned her plate. Shanoa laughed and reached for one of the canteens.

"I can't boil water without burning it." She paused to take a sip from the canteen. "I make Aeon seem like a true master chef."

"He's gotten better, though." Laura gave her a reprimanding look. Shanoa narrowed her eyes at the jeweler. They stared each other down for a few seconds before the pair burst into simultaneous laughter.

"To be fair, yes, he _has_ gotten better," Shanoa said.

"Well it's not like he could have gotten any worse." Laura grimaced and began to eat her own meal. Shanoa smiled and fell silent as the jeweler ate. She needed this. The lighthearted banter was refreshing after all they'd been through in such a short span of time. The wisps of a flame blew through her gut, but the warrior pushed it aside. Laura set her tin down when she was finished eating.

"I'd like to ask you a favor," the jeweler said with some hesitation.

"Of course." Shanoa nodded and took another sip from the canteen.

"Could you roll down your dress?"

Shanoa almost choked on her water and stared wide eyed at the older woman.

"Wh-what?"

"Only the bodice, mind you!" Laura said hastily. "I want to take a look at those bite marks, if that's all right. I know you're easily embarrassed when it comes to your modesty, but-"

"Sure." The word flew out of Shanoa's mouth in the form of a high-pitched squeak. The warrior cringed and cleared her throat. "I mean, it's fine. If… if that's all." Shanoa turned bright red as Laura gave her a quizzical look. "If I only have to get partially undressed, that is." There was a flash of strange emotion in Laura's eyes, but – like so many emotions before it – Shanoa did not recognize what it was. "Why do you want to look at them?" If she kept talking then maybe this damn blush would go away. Of course, she was also curious about what had prompted Laura to ask in the first place.

"The resurgence of your Glyphs might have had some effect on the brand," the jeweler said in a calculating tone. It was strange to hear coming from her. "It could have been altered due to the sudden influx of energy. I just want to make sure it's still dormant."

"Oh, yes, that's something we should check." Shanoa stood up and spun around; the faster they got this over with the better. The warrior bit her lip and tried to quell her nervousness as she moved her long hair to the side. She did not wear the leather breast piece to bed which left the bow at the base of her neck as the only obstacle to conquer. Shanoa heard the jeweler stand up in turn.

"Are you sure you're fine with this?" Laura asked. Shanoa paused; was she all right with this? Laura had seen her half-naked when she and Abram first discovered the brand, but this time was different. Something significant had changed. The blush that threatened to engulf Shanoa's entire body wasn't caused by embarrassment alone. It was fed by a rumble of heat that swelled within her. The very urge she had rallied against just hours before.

_So this feeling was lust, after all._

If she wished to conquer the yearning then she would have to avoid feeding it. Exposing herself to Laura in this manner threatened to coax the flames into an inferno. Shanoa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was behaving like a child; nothing about the jeweler's request was sexual. Laura wanted to examine a wound. That was all. She just had to keep that fact at the forefront of her thoughts. A wave of determination coursed through the warrior as she steeled herself for what she was about to do.

"I will be," Shanoa said and untied the bow that held her blue dress in place. Laura remained silent as she pulled the bodice away from her torso. The dress was made of a thick material that padded in the front to cover and support her breasts. Shanoa gulped as her chest was exposed and she yanked the bodice down the rest of the way until it bunched around her hips. A chill ran through her as she stood there, her torso bare, and she lifted her hands to cover herself.

"This should only take a minute," Laura said in a comforting voice. Shanoa heard leaves crunch beneath the jeweler's feet as she walked up behind her. The warrior shivered again as her sense of motion intensified in an attempt to locate Laura in the absence of being able to see her. Shanoa closed her eyes.

_There's nothing sexual about this._

She repeated the phrase over and over again in her mind. Those five words became a silent chant.

"I hate to ask this, but could you turn and face me for a moment?" The jeweler's voice was barely above a whisper. Shanoa almost whimpered, but managed to hold it back. All she could do was nod as her tongue went numb. She kept her eyes sealed shut and, slowly, turned to face the jeweler. Laura had fallen silent again. Shanoa's heart pounded in her chest as she waited for the ordeal to conclude.

_There's nothing sexual about this._

"Thank you," Laura said at last. "That's all I needed to see." The warrior hastily turned around and redressed. Once she finished tying the bow Shanoa took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. It was over, and it meant nothing. She turned towards her friend and paused when she saw Laura. The jeweler was facing away from her; Laura's amber eyes locked on the small flames of the fire and she appeared deep in thought.

"Is something wrong?" Shanoa asked. "Was there any change?"

"No, there's no change. I was just…" Laura waved her hand in the air as if to dispel whatever thought she might have had. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, it was just a stray thought." Laura gave the warrior a small smile. "In any case we've been denied the opportunity to cut this trip short. We'll have to carry on to Baia after all."

"I take it your father isn't the only family member you've been avoiding," Shanoa said. The jeweler made a pained sound and shook her head.

"I just told you about one dysfunctional relationship. Please don't make me talk about another."

"You don't have to tell me anything now, but I do want to know what I should be prepared for when we get to Baia," the warrior said. "If I'm walking into a lion's den I'd like some warning."

"Fair enough." Laura sighed. "I'll give you some insight later, but not right now."

"May I ask one more thing?"

"You may."

"Who was that man your father killed?" The question had nagged at Shanoa since the previous night.

"He was a would-be thief who broke into our home with the intention to steal whatever jewelry he could find. My father happened to be working late on a piece when he heard the man sneak inside. He confronted the thief in the hallway and…" Laura's gaze shifted to her feet. "Well you know the rest."

"So he was defending himself?"

"I'm not sure." The jeweler frowned. "The thief didn't appear to be armed. At least I didn't see a weapon on his person. When questioned, my father claimed he had killed the man in self-defense so he wasn't charged with any crime, but the fight was clearly one sided. My father could have over-powered the thief with ease. I just… I don't know." The deep seeded pain had returned to Laura's eyes. Shanoa loathed the sight of it.

_I want to take away your spite._

"Well, there is one thing I can confirm." Shanoa grinned.

"And what's that?"

"I'm aching to see what this new village looks like." The warrior clumsily changed the subject. Laura chuckled at her obvious segue.

"Colibița isn't very impressive."

"Remember who you're talking to," Shanoa said with a knowing glint in her eye. "I tend to find value in places where others do not." The beautiful smile that comment elicited from Laura was enough to make the warrior swoon.

IXI

"So, what do you think?" Laura asked as they stood at the edge of town. Shanoa surveyed the sight before her. The trail that led into Colibița was surrounded by heavy woodland that prevented the warrior from getting even a glimpse of the lakeside town before they emerged right on top of it.

It was a little past noon by the time the women reached their destination. The streets were empty with the exception of a few stray wanderers. It seemed that most of the town's residents were eating lunch or otherwise occupied. Colibița was much bigger than Wygol, though Shanoa noted it was not as large as Bistrița. The buildings were constructed of wood and stone which maintained the atmosphere of a charming mountain village. The dirt trail connected to a cobblestone street that descended down a slight incline. At the bottom of the slope the street opened up into what appeared to be a marketplace. Shanoa could make out the shapes of various stalls.

Just past the market was the lake. It was a massive body of water. The warrior surmised it was more than a kilometer across to the other shore. The surface of the deep blue water shimmered in the sunlight and reflected the images of the mountains that rose up around its perimeter.

"It's gorgeous," Shanoa said in a breathy voice as she took it all in.

"I'm glad you like it," Laura said with a grin.

"And you said it wasn't anything too impressive." Shanoa chided her friend, but kept her eyes trained on the sight before her.

"I've seen bigger and better." The jeweler shrugged. "Of course, I haven't been imprisoned inside a fortress my entire life."

"I did my fair share of traveling when I was chasing Albus across the wilderness. I may have lacked the faculties to appreciate everything I saw, but this." The warrior made a sweeping gesture. "It's breathtaking."

"You'll get an even better view of the scenery from the ferry."

"Is that it?" Shanoa pointed to a large boat chugging across the water. She thought she saw a column of white smoke rise up from the distant figure.

"I would assume so." Laura squinted as she tried to get a better look at the vessel. "Well, it seems the locals somehow managed to acquire a steamboat way out here. That wasn't in operation the last time I visited. It's a lucky break for us, too. The trip across the lake will be much faster."

"A steamboat?" Shanoa had read about the invention, but she'd never seen one in person. She became giddy at the realization that she'd get to be a passenger aboard such a marvelous machine. "Well, what are we waiting for?" She flashed Laura a wide grin and started to march down the street.

"Not so fast! We've got to buy some supplies too." Laura jogged up next to her. "And hopefully find a place where we can take a quick bath."

"Why do we need to- oh." The warrior remembered how much blood had been splattered on Laura's skin the previous day. She made a quick scan of the visible shore. "It doesn't seem like the lake is an option. The shoreline isn't secluded enough."

"That's what I was afraid of. Well, it doesn't hurt to be optimistic. Maybe we'll have better luck on the opposite side." The jeweler's attention shifted to the surrounding buildings. "What would be ideal is if we happened upon a bath house, but I doubt Colibița is big enough to warrant such an establishment."

"A bath house?" Shanoa gave her friend a quizzical look.

"You've never heard of them?"

"No, I've heard of them, I'm just surprised that people would actually visit such a place."

"They do, quite often in fact," Laura said. Shanoa shivered at the thought.

"It just sounds so…"

"Revealing?" The older woman finished for her. Shanoa nodded and Laura shrugged. "It's not for everyone. Besides, I'd never force you into doing something you're not comfortable with." The jeweler's expression turned sullen. "I want to apologize again. I should have been more sensitive when I asked to see the brand."

"There's nothing to apologize for. It was a perfectly valid request." Shanoa managed to keep her own escalating discomfort out of her voice.

"I'd like to ask you something, but it might be a personal topic."

"Since when have we ever discussed personal topics?" The warrior gave her a coy grin. "I'm not going to take offense."

"You get so embarrassed where your modesty is concerned. It makes me feel like I'm either intruding or triggering some bad memories. Did something happen to you?" Laura asked. Shanoa chuckled and shook her head.

"No, nothing happened. It's yet another habit I can blame on my upbringing. Ecclesia enforced a strict dress policy. Even a slight deviation would be met with a stern reprimand. I – being the ever obedient acolyte – made a considerable effort to ensure that I never strayed from the established code." The warrior smirked. "Hell, aside from doctors, you and Abram are the only people who've seen me in a state of undress; though I suppose Abram does count as a doctor too."

"So Ecclesia had this code, yet they allowed you to wear a dress that leaves almost your entire back exposed?" Laura's brow furrowed. "I think the contradiction is obvious."

"The elders had to make a few exceptions for me once I became their Blade. I can absorb Glyphs much faster when there isn't any material covering my tattoos." She tried to remember if Barlowe had been upset about the risqué outfit, but the memory of his initial reaction remained elusive.

"So they're the ones who gave you that dress?" the jeweler asked.

"No, Albus did," Shanoa said with a fond smile.

The steamboat was still quite a ways offshore when they reached the market. The cobblestones continued to the water's edge where they connected to a wooden pier that ran the length of the open area. Thick posts with lines of rope strung between them served to prevent people from falling into the lake. One end of the pier jutted out into the water; it was presumably where the ferry docked to unload and take on passengers.

Shanoa spotted an aging, gray-haired man leaning against one of the nearby posts. He held an open book in one hand and a lit pipe in the other. Every so often he'd take a puff from the pipe and exhale a cloud of white smoke that obscured his face. Laura took note of him and walked over to the man. Shanoa hung back a moment before she followed behind her friend.

"Are you waiting for the ferry?" Laura asked as they approached. The man looked up from his book at the question. His face was craggy and weathered; both indications that he had spent a good portion of his life outdoors. Shanoa's intuition pegged him as a sailor. She liked the cut of his well-worn face. Each wrinkle and blemish told a story, and the sparkle in his blue eyes bespoke of a good character. The sailor cracked a smile at the two women.

"Aye, that I am. I had a stroke of bad luck and just missed the boat as it was pulling out last time. I've been waiting for it to come back around, but the blasted lake is so damn wide it feels like an age." He paused and took another puff from his pipe. "Are you two looking to catch a ride as well?"

"Yes, but it's been a few years since I was last in Colibița. I was wondering if they still charge a fee to use the ferry," the jeweler said.

"That they do." He nodded. "The going rate is five gold pieces per passenger."

"What?" Laura gaped at him. "That's more than double the old price!" The sailor shrugged.

"I don't like it much either, but the town says they need the money to keep the ferry running smooth, and, of course, to pay off this fancy new boat of theirs."

"I guess we could try negotiation." Laura sighed. The sailor made a gruff sound that Shanoa interpreted as a scoff.

"Bah, tried that myself a few times, but the captain is a stubborn old goat. I'd doubt that even two young, pretty things like you would be able to sway him on the price," he said. Laura grumbled, but thanked the man for his help. He nodded and turned his attention back to his book.

"Is the fee going to be a problem?" Shanoa asked as they stepped away.

"It'll make a sizeable dent in our funds, but it's not going to bankrupt us," Laura said, but she frowned despite that assurance. "My biggest concern is our return trip. I might have to borrow some coin from my mother in order to afford a second passage."

"Are you worried she won't lend you the money?"

"No, I just hate the prospect of asking her." The jeweler sighed and looked out across the water at the steamboat. "We still have some time before it gets here. We can get our shopping done while we wait."

"What do we need?" she asked. Laura ran through their short shopping list.

"Fresh water and a quick restock of our food supplies."

"I can fill up the canteens with water from the lake." Shanoa inclined her head towards the shore.

"That'll work; we'll just have to boil it ourselves. You go do that and I'll take care of the rest." Laura unhooked the canteens strapped to her pack and handed them to Shanoa. The women split up to complete their assigned tasks.

Shanoa had to walk to the end of the market before she found a place where she could easily fill the canteens. A group of large rocks were clustered on the shore and gave the warrior a dry place to stand on while she submerged the metal canteens in the lake.

She looked back at the town as she waited for the containers to fill up. Lunch appeared to have concluded and people filed out of their homes and into the street. By the time she finished filling the canteens the market had become quite lively. Shanoa walked back to the stalls and looked around for her friend. She spotted the jeweler in front of a stand overflowing with a selection of fruit and vegetables. The grocer was a short, sandy-haired woman who appeared to be locked in an argument with Laura.

Shanoa frowned and moved closer to see what the argument was about, but the warrior stopped short when she noticed something odd. The two women were speaking in a strange language that she didn't recognize. Shanoa was stunned for a moment before she managed to shake off her surprise and attempted to interpret the context of the argument via their body language. Laura would indicate an item and comment on it. The grocer then countered with what sounded like a retort while she made exaggerated gestures with her hands. It was not a stretch to assume that the argument was over the price of the merchandise.

The warrior remained off to the side as a silent observer. She watched the women come to a general agreement. Coins were exchanged and Laura claimed her spoils. Once she had them stored away she turned and spotted Shanoa immediately. The jeweler beamed with a victorious grin as she rendezvoused with her friend.

"Never try to outwit a Romani," Laura said with a sly smile. Shanoa's eyes cut to the grocer and she caught the woman as she made an obscene gesture to Laura's back.

"What language was that?" Shanoa asked as her attention shifted again to her friend. "I've never heard anything like it before."

"It was Greek. That woman's a recent immigrant so it was much easier to barter with her when I spoke her native tongue."

"You know Greek?" Shanoa was surprised by this revelation, but it seemed that the jeweler was chock full of surprises.

"The caravan my mother and I traveled with spent most of their time in Greece. I was able to pick up on the language rather quickly, though it helped that I was young and everyone around me spoke it on a daily basis."

"I learn something new about you every day," the warrior said and marveled at this woman she was honored to call her friend. Laura's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink at the compliment. For whatever reason, Shanoa was easily able to elicit a blush from the older woman today.

"Do you know any other languages?" Laura shifted the focus of the conversation away from herself.

"I know some rudimentary Latin, but nothing that could be considered useful," Shanoa said with a disappointed frown.

"I wouldn't say that. Latin is quite useful."

"It's a dead language."

"It's a root language." Laura made sure to emphasize that point. "Almost all of the major languages spoken throughout Europe are derived from it. Linguists claim that it's easier to learn all the Romance languages if you know Latin."

"Do you know any Latin?" Shanoa asked. Laura chuckled and shook her head.

"Not at all; at most I can recite a few prayers, but that's the extent of my knowledge," she said.

The ferry had arrived at last and a small crowd had joined the old sailor on the docks. The two women loitered at the edge of the group as a short string of passengers disembarked from the vessel. Once the last passenger had walked down the gangplank a tall, plump man leaned over the side of the boat and beckoned to the awaiting customers.

"Well, what are you stalling for? All aboard who's coming aboard," he said in a gruff voice. It wasn't the most welcoming greeting, but none of the bystanders made a comment about it. The new passengers began to board the ferry; at the head of the line was the old sailor they had spoken to earlier. Each handed their gold coins to the plump man without argument.

Shanoa glanced at Laura and immediately regretted doing so. The jeweler had adjusted her top to show off more of her cleavage. Shanoa felt a familiar spike in her gut and she turned away as her face flared red.

"You're not going to attempt to negotiate the price, are you?" she asked while she kept her eyes strategically averted.

"Now what makes you think that?" Laura's tone feigned ignorance. She seemed unaware of the warrior's discomfort.

"I thought we were warned against trying this sort of thing."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," the jeweler said in a melodious tone. The line moved at a brisk pace and before long they were walking up the gangplank. Things came to a standstill when the woman in front of them had difficulty finding her fare. The pair had to wait a couple minutes while she fished around in her purse for gold coins. By the time the woman managed to pay the plump man he appeared quite perturbed. He took one look at Laura and groaned.

"Lady, I am not in the mood to argue with you," he said in annoyance.

"Whatever do you mean?" Laura tried to maintain her ruse, but the man's expression made it clear he would have none of it.

"Just pay the fare and let me get back to my job." He held out his hand.

"I haven't even said anything yet." The jeweler frowned.

"You're trying the oldest and most obvious trick in the book." The man's eyes cut to her chest for a brief moment. "And while they are nice breasts, I'll give you that, they don't change the price. You either pay the posted fee or you find yourself another boat." Laura rolled her eyes and reached into her purse.

"Fine, you can have your damn fare." She counted out ten gold coins and shoved them into the man's chest. He managed to grab them all before they fell to the deck with a graceful maneuver that suggested he had dealt with his fair share of angry customers.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you," he said in a wry tone as Laura stormed off towards the bow of the boat. Shanoa gave him an apologetic smile and hurried after her friend.

"Unbelievable!" The jeweler huffed as she readjusted her top.

"I guess feminine charms don't work on everyone," Shanoa said with a slight shrug.

"It doesn't help that my skills are rusty. I never had to pull that stunt back in Wygol," Laura muttered, but her voice retained an aggravated edge.

"I'm sure most of the men wouldn't have complained if you did." The words flew out of the warrior's mouth before she could stop them.

"They'll live, besides I don't want to give them any ideas. Marcel is aggravating enough as it is, though I think he's finally starting to back down." The pair reached the bow of the boat and Laura leaned forward against the port side railing.

Shanoa stood off to the side and studied the older woman as she looked out over the lake. Laura's long hair hung loose and tumbled far past her shoulders. The curly strands framed her face as they swayed in the slight breeze. Her new travel clothes mirrored her destroyed top and skirt in their simple style, though these were dyed a bright scarlet. The jeweler had a penchant for the color, it seemed. That dreaded longing flared inside Shanoa's gut as she continued to stare at her friend.

_This woman was everything she wanted._

God help her, she needed to kill this infernal yearning.

"Out of pure curiosity, is there anyone you're romantically interested in?" Shanoa ventured to ask. "Obviously there's nobody in Wygol, but it's not the only village in the world." She felt her eyebrow twitch. It was a desperate attempt on her part, but if there _was_ a man in Laura's life then she could use that knowledge to douse her own foolish desires.

_And if there isn't anyone?_

Shanoa quenched the thought. There had to be someone. A woman this beautiful couldn't throw a stone without hitting at least one man who had his eye on her.

The question garnered a shocked expression from Laura.

"Yes, there…" She paused and her gaze fell to the rippling water. "It doesn't matter. Nothing will ever come of it." The jeweler's voice was barely above a whisper. Shanoa's mind went blank. She had no idea how to interpret the cryptic response. Laura ran a hand through her hair and turned her head to face the warrior.

"What about you? Is there anyone who has the Blade's affections?" Laura asked with a playful smile.

_You._

Shanoa gulped and shook her head. Laura looked surprised by the revelation.

"Come on, there must be someone!"

"It's the truth. There's never been anyone in my life who I've felt drawn to in a romantic sort of way." The lie left a bitter aftertaste on her tongue.

"You've never fancied a man?" the jeweler asked, and Shanoa shook her head again. "Not even once?"

"Is it that surprising?" The warrior squirmed in discomfort. She didn't know how long she could keep up a convincing façade.

"You must have at least had a childhood crush on some boy."

"There were always more important things for me to concern myself with." Shanoa joined Laura against the railing. "Saving-the-world-from-the-forces-of-evil important. In the face of that task everything else became trivial." Laura frowned and gave her a conflicted look.

"I don't know if I should envy or pity you," the jeweler said after a pause.

"You know what it's like to carry that burden." Laura's frown deepened at the reference to her father's lectures.

"That's not what I meant. I was talking about where romance is concerned." Her eyes drifted back to the clear water. "I pity that you've never felt that kind of love before, but I also envy you for that same reason. You've never had to endure the pain of losing it." There was a moment of heavy silence as Shanoa mulled over this new information.

"Laura…"

She was interrupted by a man shouting "all aboard" followed by a loud whistle as the steamboat rumbled to life. There were a few short jolts as the vessel pulled away from the dock, but soon they were gliding across the water. Throughout the commotion Shanoa's concerned eyes never strayed from Laura.

"Do you want to talk about it?" the warrior asked at length.

"No." She was a bit taken aback by Laura's curt reply. "And please." The jeweler looked at her with pleading eyes. "Don't ever ask again. It happened in another life; one that I'm not going back to."

"I won't ask again," Shanoa said with a nod. Laura had shared a lot with her since the start of this journey, but she still had the right to keep her secrets; just as Shanoa had the right to keep her own.

"Thank you." Laura's expression remained sullen as she spoke the words of gratitude. The two friends stood in silence as they turned to stare at the western shore of the lake. "You know, I was wrong," the jeweler said after a minute.

"About what?"

"Colibița is rather beautiful."

Shanoa made a sound of agreement and smiled.

For the most part their trip across the lake passed without incident. Being on a steamboat was not quite as exciting as Shanoa had anticipated, but the surrounding scenery made up for the lack of thrills. The area to the west of the lake was of particular interest to the warrior. The great Carpathian wilderness had been left untouched by the people of the nearby town and it emitted an almost feral beauty. A mountain rose up out of the earth and towered high in the sky. Though it was not tall enough to have a snow-covered peak, it remained an impressive formation. A valley was cut into the mountain's left side; the fissure eroded over time by a river that fed into the lake. The river gushed out of the rocky flank and tumbled down a short waterfall before it deposited in the larger body of water.

The warrior weaved about on the deck as she tried to take in as much of the surrounding country as possible. Laura was able to keep up with her and commented that she did not want the younger woman to accidentally tumble over the side of the boat in her excited haste. Shanoa only stumbled once when she leaned against the stern of the vessel to get a closer look at the white foam that trailed behind the boat. An unexpected lurch thrust her forwards and Shanoa dangled over the edge for a heart-stopping moment before she regained her balance and scrambled backwards. Her chest pounded as she put some distance between herself and the railing.

"You better watch yourself." Shanoa turned towards the vaguely familiar voice and was greeted by the old sailor from the dock. He stood close behind her with an amused expression on his face. He chuckled and the movement caused his pipe to bounce in the corner of his mouth. "I'd hate to see you go over the side. That pack would pull you to the bottom as fast as any anchor."

"If it's any consolation I do know how to swim," she said, though she suspected any claim she made to her ability to navigate through water without drowning would be met with skepticism at best. She couldn't even explain how the Serpent Scale worked, but magic could function without an explanation. Still, she recognized the validity of his concerns. "Thank you, though." Shanoa looked around for Laura, but saw no sign of the jeweler. "Have you seen my friend; the woman who was with me on the pier?"

"Aye." The old sailor nodded. "I caught sight of her closer to the prow. She was talking to some young fellas, but I can't say what about. I'm not one to eavesdrop." Shanoa's stomach knotted.

"What did these men look like?" she asked. A voice in the back of her mind wondered if they had some connection to the bandits she'd killed. Perhaps they had been found out? The old man simply shrugged.

"They were a couple of local boys. Their clothes were too clean-cut to belong to travelers." He puffed on his pipe. "I wouldn't worry too much about them. They don't look like they'd be able to match you in a scuffle." Shanoa gave him a confused look.

"What makes you think I can handle myself in a fight?" she asked. His lips curled into a smile.

"It's the look in your eyes, mostly. You've got a fire in your heart, and I can see the flames reflected in your eyes. You're young, but you've seen some blood. I'd wager you've drawn a good helping of that blood yourself," he said with an approving nod.

"How can you tell?" The sailor had piqued her curiosity. Shanoa knew that she stood out in a crowd, if only because of her unique tattoos, but it was intriguing to have this stranger present such an accurate reading of her nature.

"I was a soldier in my prime. Might not look much like one now, but I was a damn good fighter," he said with pride. "I fought in a good many battles with my kin and countrymen. Fact of the matter is when you see enough of war you start to learn something about the nature of the human race. Things you can't bury or ignore. Think of it this way: some of those artists say they can tell when a person puts their heart into a painting. One of them gave me a whole lecture about 'impressions' or 'seeing behind the brush' or some such nonsense. Only…" He scratched his chin. "It's not nonsense at all.

"See, when you learn a craft down to its bare bones you gain a sense that you didn't have before. For an artist it's being able to tell if a painting is something more than just a painting, but then there's you and I. We know what it takes for a man to kill another man. We've been there ourselves, and we can tell when a person has that capability in him. That's why I can take one look at you and know that you're a fighter. There's no actual evidence that I can use to prove it, but I know it just the same."

"Who are you?" Shanoa asked in amazement. The old sailor laughed.

"I'm just a decrepit old man with a wish to see the world before he kicks the proverbial bucket." He gave her a warm smile. "There's nothing more to it. Bearing witness to a young woman drowning would put quite a damper on things, if you'd excuse my pun."

"Well I'd hate to be the one to ruin your vacation." Shanoa grinned.

"It's not a vacation, it's a quest! There's all the difference in the world. Now go save your friend from what I can imagine is boring small-talk." He waved her off. Shanoa thanked the old sailor and headed in the direction he'd pointed her.

She found Laura about halfway between the prow and the stern on the starboard side of the ferry. She was conversing with two young men, just as the old sailor had said. Shanoa's suspicions eased when she saw them for herself. The men were wearing tweed suits, though they had forgone their jackets which revealed the ironed long-sleeved dress shirts they wore underneath the vests. They were clean-shaven and their hair was combed back against their scalps. Shanoa estimated that the men were in their late teens or early twenties.

At first glance there didn't appear to be anything amiss, but Shanoa smelled trouble the closer she got to the trio. The young men had Laura backed up against the railing and were positioned in such a way that they blocked the jeweler from escaping. Laura didn't appear to be frightened of the pair, but her expression made it clear that she was aggravated with them. Shanoa quickened her pace.

"I'm telling you, it must be fate. Who would have thought we'd see each other again so soon?" The warrior heard one of the men say to Laura. "Besides, there's no reason for you to be so uncivil towards me."

"How would your girlfriend react if she could hear you now? I can't imagine it'd be pleasant." Laura punctuated the insult with a sneer. The young man brushed off her accusation with an indifferent shrug.

"She's too busy gallivanting around town. We'll just keep this little affair between us. What she doesn't know can't hurt her." He emphasized his proposition with a suggestive wink.

"The answer is still no," Laura said in a voice that left little room for argument.

"Give it up, Hector. She's not going for it," the other man said to his friend. Hector shot him an angry glare.

"All dames have a weakness. You've just got to know what to exploit." Hector turned his attention back to the jeweler. "You like things that glitter?" He pulled a gold coin out of his pocket. "We can make that sort of arrangement too."

Laura slapped him hard across the face. Hector cradled his throbbing cheek and snarled at the jeweler.

"You little bi-"

"Hey!" Shanoa entered the conversation with a booming voice. The young men whirled around to face her.

"Who the hell is this?" Hector scoffed at the warrior. Shanoa stood her ground as she sized them up. Both men were taller than she was (though not by much) and of larger build, but the old sailor had been right about their countenance. The boys oozed with rich entitlement. They weren't fighters in any capacity.

"My friend refused your vulgar offer and I suggest you honor her sentiments." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"And why should we listen to you?" the as-of-yet unnamed man asked.

"Because I protect the people I care about," she said with a growl. A vision of the bandits flashed in her mind. The bloody knife poised to slice into the flesh of the woman she loved, but Shanoa fought back the rage that memory elicited. These boys had harassed Laura, but they were all bark and no bite. They just needed to be taught a lesson. Hector laughed at the warrior's threat and looked back at Laura.

"Tell your poodle to heel before she says something she'll regret," he said with a bemused smile, though his voice held an angry edge to it.

"You should heed her warning." Laura glared at him. "If you try to fight her you will lose." Hector scoffed at her indignant words.

"What's with these backwoods dames? I swear, they're nice to look at, but they're all born crazy. Well Jasper, you heard her." He pointed at Shanoa. "If the poodle wants a fight then give her a fight." The lackey shifted uncomfortably.

"I didn't come out here to throttle an unarmed woman," Jasper said, but Hector clicked his tongue.

"We had an agreement. If you're not going to follow orders then I guess you can go back to-"

"Yes, fine, you made your point." Jasper frowned. He stepped in front of Shanoa and shrugged. "It's nothing personal, lady," he said the empty apology before he lunged at the warrior. Shanoa side-stepped his attack and invoked Pneuma on the ground near his feet. The gust of green wind wrapped itself around Jasper's legs and knocked the man off balance. He cried out and fell face-first onto the deck. Hector gasped in disbelief.

"What the-?"

"That was just a small taste of what I can do to you," Shanoa said. "Don't try my patience."

"Get off your sorry ass and run this bitch into the ground!" Hector shouted. Jasper scrambled to his feet and lumbered towards Shanoa. He threw a clumsy punch at the warrior which she was able to dodge easily. She caught his arm as it passed by her head and pivoted on her feet. In a single fluid motion she used Jasper's forward momentum to flip him over her shoulder. His back slammed hard against the deck and the air was knocked out of his lungs. Jasper wheezed as he lay stunned at his friend's feet. Hector balked for a moment before he shook himself free of his surprise.

"You're fucking useless!" He unsheathed a dirk that was tied to his belt. Hector kicked his lackey in the ribs and brandished the blade at Shanoa. "I'll take care of her myself!" He made a noise that sounded similar to a roar and dashed towards the warrior. The tattoo on Shanoa's right arm glowed as she extended her hand to the side.

"Melio Secare," she invoked the Glyph aloud. Hector faltered in his step as the ethereal sword materialized out of thin air. Shanoa gripped the handle of the weapon and with a flick of her wrist knocked the dirk out of Hector's grasp with the edge of her blade. She channeled Pneuma through her left arm and wrapped the whirlwind around Hector's legs. He cried out as he was knocked to the deck and his head banged hard against the wood planks. Shanoa leapt on top of the young man and dug her knees into his chest. He wheezed as she held the tip of the blade against his throat.

"Don't kill me!" His Adam's apple bobbed against the glowing metal. "Please don't kill me! I'll give you anything! Anything you want!"

"What I want is for you to behave. Are you going to be a good boy?" Shanoa asked in a hard voice.

"Yes! Yes I am!"

"Then apologize to my friend." Shanoa pressed the point into his skin, but did not draw blood. "And I want you to mean it."

"I'm sorry!" Hector spared Laura a quick glance. "I'm so sorry!"

"I don't think you mean it." Shanoa narrowed her eyes at him.

"I do! I do, I do, I do, I do!" Hector trembled and tears dribbled out of the corners of his eyes. "I'll leave you alone! I won't ever bother you again!"

"Promise her." The warrior's demanding tone carried the threat of unpleasant repercussions should he refuse.

"I promise! Cross my heart, I promise!"

"Shanoa…" She looked up at the sound of her name. Laura's concerned voice had drawn her out of the satisfaction of the moment and Shanoa immediately recognized what had caused the jeweler to intervene. The other passengers had gathered around them to watch the fight, but they were not amused or entertained. Their eyes reflected a mixture of disbelief and innate fear. Shanoa hesitated as Hector whimpered beneath her. Were these people _afraid_ of her?

The warrior pushed herself off the coward and stood up. She questioned whether or not it was wise to dispel Melio Secare in front of the terrified onlookers. Her blood ran cold when she heard someone whisper the word "witch".

"Good heavens, Shanoa! What did I tell you?" The old sailor stepped out of the line of bystanders and marched towards the warrior. Shanoa gaped at him as he approached, but he wagged his finger in disgust. "Don't you dare try and argue with me! You're in deep this time! Just wait until your father hears about this. He'll flog you himself!" A woman cleared her throat and the old sailor turned to look at her.

"You know this… this…" The woman's eyes darted back and forth between Shanoa and the mystical blade. He sighed and slapped Shanoa on her shoulder.

"This here is my rambunctious niece. She's always been a bit reckless with her temper, and it certainly doesn't leave a good first impression. I thought we were making progress!" He glared at the warrior. She stared wide-eyed at him, unsure of what to say or think. The old sailor raised his hands to address the small crowd. "There's nothing to fret over, folks. I'll handle her from here."

"Are those boys all right?" another bystander asked. "She didn't _hex_ them or anything, did she?"

"Oh pshaw, she didn't put a hex on them! It was just a small scuffle. They'll be up and about before you know it, won't you lads?" The old sailor nudged Jasper with his foot. The boy groaned and rolled over on his side. "You see? Just a case of embarrassment is all. It's not every day a young boy gets knocked around by a girl, but I'm sure they've learned their lesson." He pointed at Shanoa and Laura. "Now, you two are coming with me."

The two women shot each other a furtive glance, but complied with his command. They left Hector and Jasper to cry on the deck as they followed the old sailor as far away from the concerned passengers as possible.

"When I said you could take those boys in a fight I didn't mean that you should go ahead and do anything foolish." He reprimanded Shanoa once the crowd was out of earshot.

"What was I supposed to do? Stand off to the side and watch?" she asked in an argumentative tone.

"I saw you incapacitate that one boy with just your bare hands," he said. "You could have disposed of them in a way that didn't involve showing off your fancy magic for the whole world to see! Did you really think that was a good idea? Did you think at all?"

"This is the first time she's traveled outside our village," Laura said. "Back home everyone knows about her powers."

"Well we're not in your village now, are we? I can guarantee the people here have never seen anything like… like _that_!" He pointed to the sword in Shanoa's hand. "The only magic they get out here are either simple party tricks for children or spells to heal wounds. Forming a weapon out of thin air is going to frighten most folk, and if you aren't careful it could even get you killed! People don't use the word 'witch' lightly. When they start calling you that it means they think you're in league with some very dark forces."

"So, what, are they going to burn me at the stake?" Shanoa asked in bewilderment. Ecclesia's elders had warned her against using her Glyphs outside of what her missions required, but they had never told her that it could lead onlookers to associate her with evil.

"You'll only have to worry about that if you make more of a ruckus. It'll become clear soon enough that those boys weren't hexed, but I wouldn't wait around for that. The faster you get out of town the better." The old sailor glanced back in the direction of the small crowd. "Only a few people saw what happened today. If you leave now they'll probably forget all about this after a week or two."

"I'm sorry, I didn't…" Shanoa hung her head in shame. He looked at her mournful expression and sighed.

"Your intentions were noble, but your actions were unwise," he said. "You should watch yourself in the future."

"I will." Shanoa vowed with a nod. The old sailor turned to Laura next.

"Hold her to that."

"You have my word." They were interrupted by the sound of a loud whistle. Shanoa looked around and realized that they had reached the opposite shore. The steamboat slowed as it pulled in to dock at another wooden pier.

"We're out of time. You two should be the first ones off." The old sailor pushed them towards the gangway. "I'll make a scene and hold up the rest of them." Shanoa hesitated.

"I never caught your name."

"My name doesn't matter. I'm just an old man who doesn't want to see a young woman die before her time." He smiled at her. "Now get rid of that sword if you can. That weapon will draw even more unwanted attention to you." Shanoa dismissed Melio Secare. The blade broke into a thousand beads of bright light before it dissipated into the air. "Remarkable…" the old sailor said in a voice that betrayed his astonishment.

"Thank you for everything." Shanoa extended her hand to him, but he shook his head with a grunt.

"Save your thanks for another time. You've got a good amount of ground to cover before you can relax."

The ferry docked at the pier and the women followed his instructions. They hurried down the gangplank as soon as the plump man had finished placing it. Shanoa only paused once when she heard a loud commotion behind them, but Laura pulled on her arm before she could turn and see what had happened.

"He's right, we have to go!" she said. Shanoa nodded and they dashed towards the edge of town and the safety of the mountain wilds.

IXI

For the second time in two days they found themselves on the run. The women resolved to keep moving as long as daylight would allow them. No one pursued them out of Colibița, but they heeded the old sailor's advice and pressed on regardless. They didn't stop to make camp until well after the sun had begun to set. Contrary to the previous night they picked a place to camp that was a ways off the trail where a fire would be more difficult to spot through the surrounding trees.

Shanoa threw her pack on the ground and hastily built a campfire. Once it was lit she stood up and began to pace back and forth. She twitched as a chord of tension threatened to snap inside her chest. Fury had boiled inside of her as they fled Colibița, and while she'd managed to keep her anger in check thus far she felt that control begin to slip.

"Shanoa?" She heard Laura say her name and felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. Something broke at the simple contact and the warrior pulled away.

"I need to be alone right now." Shanoa somehow managed to keep an even tone as she spoke. "I'll be back, I just…" She shuddered. "I need to be alone."

"Shanoa…" Laura whispered, but did not object as the warrior stalked off into the underbrush.

She didn't need to travel far before she found a gap in the trees that was large enough to suit her needs. She once again summoned Melio Secare and Shanoa stared into the flat surface of the blade. The flickering blue-white metal offered no reflection despite the light from the waning sun and the glow that emanated from the edges of the sword.

_What have I done wrong?_

The thought pounded in Shanoa's mind as she began to move. She danced around the surrounding trees as if they were sentient opponents. The warrior sliced thin cuts in their bark with her Glyph as she glided past.

Those people had called her "witch", just as the bandits had. Something about her Glyphs made her terrifying. They all looked at her as if she was a monster, but why? Because she had defended Laura? Because she sought to fulfill her duty to protect others?

Her cuts cleaved deeper.

She had bled for humanity. She had killed for them. Albus had died for them. Yet all were invisible sacrifices in the eyes of these people who were unaware that Dracula was more than a myth. Her whole world had been shattered in the pursuit of saving humanity, but they would never recognize the magnitude of what she had lost.

Shanoa's dance intensified as the rage flared inside her. She began to hack away chunks of bark and wood from the face of the trees.

In the end she had to bear the weight of her battles in secret. She had to mourn her brother in secret. She even had to love in secret. Those people called her "witch" today, but what would they call her if they knew? If they discovered that she did not desire a man but another woman?

Shanoa put her full strength behind a mighty swing and buried the blade in the trunk of a tree. She panted as she held the pose, her knuckles white as she gripped the handle of the Glyph.

Where had this burning come from? This longing that was so intense it threatened to undo her.

She dismissed the Glyph and crumpled to the forest floor. She opened her palms and stared down at her hands. The old sailor was right. She could have defeated those boys without summoning a single Glyph. So why had she used them?

_Shanoa had spent her life in pursuit of the ability to stop men of this ilk, and she would not watch helplessly as another person she loved was ripped away!_

This had been different, though. This had…

She squeezed her eyes shut. Was her lust to blame? Had that driven her to rash action? Had her feelings blinded her ability to reason?

She needed Laura's input now more than ever, but she couldn't even have that. Laura's help would require confession, and Shanoa feared all the consequences that would bring.

_So what have I done wrong?_

What had she done to bring this infernal desire upon herself? Ecclesia had taken everything from her, and just when she thought she could begin anew this damn lust reared its ugly head.

"This is no good." Shanoa sniffed as she muttered out loud to herself. "I've been here before. This is what happened that morning after the castle fell." Where would wallowing in self-pity get her? Shanoa stood up and shook her head in an attempt to free herself from the emotional haze. She _was _the Blade. She had stared all manner of evil in the face and lived to tell the tale. Yes, lust was a new foe, but like all enemies it could be defeated. She did not know how, but she would find its weakness.

Then, once she discovered lust's vulnerability, Shanoa would tear it apart.

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> there were many small alterations in this chapter, mostly in regards to dialogue, but events played out the same way as the original version.

What I like about this chapter is that there's a lot of exposition contained within a few normal, every-day experiences; disregarding the fiasco on the ferry, of course.

Similar to my note at the end of chapter two about monsters in the Castlevania universe I don't see magic users as being commonplace either. Only a few people outside of each game's main characters are blessed with the skill, and their power is pointed out as remarkable. We know Shanoa's the valiant hero, but her abilities are far from normal even in a universe that contains magic. I can see the average layperson in a Castlevania setting being afraid of people who wield destructive magic in general let alone someone who can conjure weapons at her whim.


	14. Infernal

Chapter Fourteen

_Infernal_

Ecclesia's elders had subjected Shanoa to a rigorous training method that was designed to teach the young warrior to endure immense pain. The lessons did not have a fixed place in her schedule and always came without warning. It was typical for Shanoa to undergo the ordeal in tandem with her daily sparring, but there had been instances where she was roused in the middle of the night for the dreaded lesson. The means by which the pain was administered was not through any physical torment; rather she was forced to consume a poisonous brew. She never discovered what the concoction was made of, and though drinking the foul liquid had torturous consequences the poison passed through her system within a matter of hours.

Shanoa was hard-pressed to describe the pain she endured by the hand of that poison. The agony it inflicted did not wane in intensity regardless of how many times she was forced to experience it. The pain came in phases: the first was an inferno of heat. Her entire body felt as if it had been consumed in flames, there were times when she'd sworn she felt her skin blister, but the heat was merciful compared to what followed.

The searing heat would settle into her bones and pulse with each beat of her pounding heart. As the heat pulsed it expanded until her bones were poised to shatter from their inability to contain it. Though her skeleton became brittle, the worst aspect of the experience was how the poison amplified every nerve in her body. Any form of contact carried the risk of immense pain. The smallest collision racked her frame as violently as a fall from a great height. A pat on the shoulder, the reverberations of two wooden swords smacking into each other, or even stepping on the ground with too much force caused a bolt of agony to slice through her.

It was pure torture, but Barlowe had insisted that this pain was the fire that would temper her into Ecclesia's mightiest weapon.

"_Ancient Sparta produced the most formidable warriors the world has ever known." Barlowe gave his lecture from the edge of the outdoor arena. "From a young age their children underwent extreme training methods in an effort to render them numb to pain. A boy was not considered a man until he endured a vicious beating by a full-grown soldier. If the boy cried out or displayed any sign of weakness he would fail this crucial test. Some children died from their injuries, but the Spartans viewed the practice as necessary to maintain their military might."_

"_Did this-" Shanoa cried out as Master Torey blocked her attack. The vibrations of the impact sent a searing bolt of pain down her right arm. She stumbled backwards as she fought the urge to cradle her throbbing limb. "Did it work? Did it make them…?" She hissed. "Strong?"_

"_Again!" Master Torey ordered and Shanoa grimaced as she lunged at her large opponent._

"_It was effective, yes," Barlowe continued as he watched them fight. "Spartan warriors were notoriously difficult to kill. There are tales of soldiers losing limbs in the midst of battle and dismissing the wound as a normal man would a scratch. A true Spartan laughed in the face of death. He would not succumb to its grip unless someone forced him through the gates of Hell, and even then he would deign to take the aggressor with him."_

_The poison slowed her down and Shanoa's form was sloppy as she tried to best her instructor. She felt herself weaken and she stumbled near the end of Barlowe's speech. Master Torey used the opening to disarm the girl._

"_No good, Shanoa." The large man hit her hard in the gut with the pommel of his practice sword. She screamed and doubled over as pain barreled through her._

"_You must learn to endure, Shanoa," Barlowe said in an encouraging voice. "You must become an unstoppable force. Our enemies will employ any means necessary in their attempts to cripple you, but if you resist their blows you will become as fearsome to them as a Spartan warrior."_

"_It just hurts… so much." She openly cried as she lowered herself to the ground._

"_The pain is necessary. Only through conquering this pain will you find the means to withstand Dominus."_

Though she loathed attributing victory to Barlowe's influence, the training had worked. Dominus drained the life energy from whoever summoned it, but the pain inflicted by the Glyph had been infinitely easier to bear with the fortitude she gleaned from years of consuming the dread poison. As an added advantage she rarely felt the bite of a wound in combat unless it was a grave injury. Shanoa did not fancy herself a Spartan, but there were undeniable similarities between her and the ancient warriors.

While nothing in Shanoa's training had prepared her for the emotional assault this infernal yearning – this lust – brought upon her, she did have the skills to endure it. The ache of desire was a mental affliction, but the physical ailments were similar to the poison's effects. There was the familiar burning and the jolts of immense sensation at the slightest contact. These physical symptoms she could outlast, but the lust itself was a trickier opponent.

The key lesson she had learned was that it was folly to outright ignore such strong emotions. Her sorrow and grief had hounded her every step until they burst forth in a torrential rain of tears and screams. The wave of emotion had been so strong because she had suppressed and ignored her grieving. If she tried to bury this lust in the same manner there was the distinct possibility that it would reach a similar breaking point. Shanoa was not keen to find out what that would look like.

Perhaps her initial assessment had been wrong and this _was_ a yearning that could be sated. If she could find some way to release the coiled tension on her own then she could utilize that method to bring it under control. While killing the lust was the most desirable option it was not the easiest path. She would tame the beast, study it, and discover ways to dispose of it.

It was a plan at any rate.

"Shanoa?" She turned her head when Laura said her name. The jeweler noted the absent look in her eyes and sighed. "You didn't hear a word I said, did you?"

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking."

"You've been doing a lot of that lately. You've hardly spoken ten words since last night. We haven't even talked about what happened yesterday."

After her solo excursion in the woods the previous night Shanoa had returned to camp exhausted and worn out. She'd made a brief, but sincere, apology to Laura for her irate behavior and the two had eaten a quick meal. Shanoa retired to her bedroll immediately, and though sleep came easily it had been restless. The warrior had woken up feeling less than refreshed, but the plague of this lust situation remained.

"What's troubling you?" Laura's voice was laden with concern.

"I… don't even know what to say." Shanoa stumbled over her words. Guilt weighed heavy in her chest at the memory of their hasty departure from Colibița. "I made a grave mistake."

"You didn't know that those people would have a negative reaction to your Glyphs." Laura somehow knew what the warrior referred to without needing further exposition.

"I can't keep using my naivety as an excuse for my actions. The elders did warn me about this. They told me to be cautious when using my Glpyhs; that a casual observer could misconstrue the nature of my power. I knew that much, but I allowed my anger to get the better of me." Shanoa clenched her fists. "A good warrior understands control and is able to restrict themselves when appropriate. I wasn't thinking with reason. I just heard what those boys were saying and I wanted to punish them for it." Laura was silent for a few moments as she contemplated how to respond.

"While that was very chivalrous of you, I can stand up for myself."

"I know, and I saw you do just that, but I couldn't reign in my emotions." Shanoa hung her head. A mixture of shame and leftover anger swirled in her chest. "You don't deserve that kind of treatment. You deserve to be treated with respect." Laura gave her a grateful smile.

"Was that what got under your skin?" the jeweler asked.

"Not quite, it was the way those people looked at me. There was a recognizable fear in their eyes. They thought I was everything I've spent my entire life fighting against." Shanoa could feel the bitterness emanate from her mournful expression. "I am a Blade to banish evil, but I must be the sword in the darkness. It's just another burden that I have to hide from the world."

"They're simply ignorant. If they knew about your deeds and all the lives you've saved those people would treat you with reverence." Shanoa thought she caught a hint of disdain in Laura's voice.

"You know why I must fight in secret," the warrior said.

"Yes, the less mankind knows of Dracula the less power he has over humanity. The more he remains a whispered secret or a myth the less that man will seek the Dark Lord and be tempted by his influence." She recited the words in an almost detached voice.

"I've resigned myself to living my life in the shadows of the world. I do not need the glory of an audience, but it's times like this where the secrecy feels so unfair."

"There are a lot of things in life that are unfair," Laura whispered. Shanoa looked over at her friend and caught a glimpse of immense regret reflected in the jeweler's eyes, but as soon as she blinked it had disappeared.

IXI

It was close to sundown when Laura made the discovery. They had filled the day with sporadic conversation and Shanoa expounded further on the details of her quest. At length it became evident that they'd have to stop and make camp. Shanoa was about to suggest that they find a place to bed down for the night when Laura ground to a sudden halt.

"Wait, do you hear that?" the jeweler asked. Shanoa stopped and listened. She heard the usual sounds of the forest, but nothing out of place or noteworthy.

"I don't hear anything," she said with a slight shake of her head.

"It's faint, but there's just enough…" Laura inclined her head to the right. Suddenly, she stepped off the path and began to make her way through the trees.

"Laura?" Shanoa asked in puzzlement, but the older woman ignored her and kept moving. The warrior sighed and followed after her friend. She had some difficulty keeping up with the jeweler. Laura was able to maneuver through the thick underbrush with surprising speed; no doubt a result of her childhood training. After a few minutes they emerged from the dense forest and walked into a small clearing that stood near the bank of a river.

"I knew it!" Laura beamed. "The trees deafened the noise, but I was positive I heard the sound of running water!"

"What's so exciting about a river?" Shanoa asked. The jeweler's expression became downright ecstatic.

"I haven't had the chance to bathe since we left Wygol. I feel disgusting and my hair is starting to become an absolute mess." Laura snapped a long, thin branch off of a nearby tree and lowered it into the water. She was able to submerge most of the branch before she hit the bottom. "And it's deep, too! This river is a God-send. We should set up camp right here." Laura dropped her pack on the ground and fished around inside of it. A few moments later she withdrew a yellow bar of soap. "But we should get a fire started before we go into the river." Shanoa's mouth went dry as a terrifying realization struck her.

"You want both of us to bathe?" She gulped.

"Well, _I_ want to bathe. You can too if you wish." Laura looked up and noted the sheer terror on Shanoa's face. "Oh, not at the same time, of course."

"Right." Shanoa nodded. "You can go on ahead. I'll get the fire started. I do happen to be the one with the magical pyro Glyphs." The warrior placed her pack on the ground and walked over to the nearby trees to gather wood for a fire. She felt Laura watching her as she knelt down to pick up some dried branches.

"I'll go upstream if that will help you feel more at ease," the jeweler said.

"I'm sorry, Laura." Shanoa's cheeks flush.

"You don't have to apologize. I understand your discomfort," Laura said in a consoling tone.

"No, you don't understand. I-" Shanoa turned to face the older woman. The dread words rested on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't quite muster the courage to say them out loud. "I'm being ridiculous. We're both women, after all. I shouldn't get so embarrassed about it."

"Modesty is nothing to be ashamed of." Laura gave her a warm smile that just about broke Shanoa's heart.

_But if you knew…_

"I'll just be a little ways upstream. You can call out if you need me." Laura gripped the soap in one hand and grabbed her blanket with the other. "Remember, you don't have to feel nervous around me," she said with another smile before she turned and walked away.

Shanoa remained silent as she built the campfire and set the wood alight with a burst of flames from Ignis. It took no more than a few seconds for the fire to consume the branches. She sat on the ground next to it and stared into the twisting flames. As if on cue a barrage of unwelcome images flooded her mind: a familiar and now naked figure who was so, so close –

_Stop it._ Shanoa dug her fingers into her scalp, but she could not stem the tide. _Stop doing this to yourself._

She knew the futility of pleading. She had just about as much control over this yearning as she did over the circumstances of her own upbringing. She didn't know what had fostered this lust or where it had gained such power, but she did know that it was a poison. There had already been more than enough poison in her life. It had rendered her helpless in the past, but not this time. She was a warrior, damn it! Dracula couldn't break her. This foolish desire could not hope to succeed where the Dark Lord himself had failed.

The surge of conviction brought a wave of energy with it, and when it broke over her the warrior could not keep still any longer. She stood up and paced about the clearing. The tattoos on her arms glowed with a faint light as the Glyphs pulsed within her flesh. They begged to be used against this invisible enemy, but she could not defeat lust through sheer brawn.

_I will not succumb._

How could she tame this beast? A fire was doused with water, but what would extinguish these flames? The yearning twisted deep within her gut; if there was some way she could reach it..?

Shanoa stopped in her tracks as an idea occurred to her.

_Perhaps I could…_

She shook her head and her face flushed an even deeper shade of red. Surely there was a less juvenile means of achieving her intended goal.

_But I've never actually tried it._

"What good could it possibly do?" She argued out loud with herself. "What will it change?" Yet she lacked the information to build a solid case against it. It was true that she'd never actually tried it. She'd had no need of such an act until now. She needed to tame this lust, and if she could find a means to sate it – even a little – then perhaps it wouldn't be quite so daunting a task.

_All right,_ _but not here_.

Shanoa left the clearing and crept back into the forest. She was not as adept at moving through the trees as Laura, but subterfuge was unnecessary here. When she felt she was far enough away from the camp Shanoa fell to her knees. The impact made an audible crunch as she landed atop a layer of dead leaves. She trembled a bit as she contemplated what she was about to do.

_Am I really this desperate?_

Another wave of yearning was all the answer she needed. Shanoa closed her eyes, cleared her mind as best she could, and reached underneath her dress with her right hand.

She had "studied" herself with some curiosity after her discussions with Albus on the subject of sex, but this was the first time she had touched herself with this intent. At least she knew what areas were sensitive and she tried to ignore her embarrassment as she slipped her hand into her underwear. She was surprised to find herself slick; something that she'd never encountered previously. Shanoa continued on despite this new development and her chest constricted as she located the nub with her fingers.

_This will tame the beast._ The phrase echoed inside her head as Shanoa applied pressure with her hand.

The result was underwhelming.

She choked as her breath caught in her throat. _Breathe, just breathe._ She was too nervous. The warrior shuddered with a long, slow exhale. No one was watching her. She was alone in the forest. Shame held no value or consequence when she was the lone person to bear witness to it. Shanoa bent over and gripped the ground with her free hand. This was just another secret.

She moved her fingers with more intensive purpose as she tried her best to elicit some sort of response from her body. She circled and pressed down hard on the nub, but the miniscule sensations she received were not even a semblance of what her lust craved. Shanoa ground her teeth as she tried in ever escalating desperation to sate the yearning by her own touch.

_I just need to tame the beast._

But it wasn't enough.

_No! No, it has to be enough! I will make it be enough!_

She fought against the damning truth, but she knew why this was doomed to fail.

_Shanoa had not become the morning sun by her own command, but Laura…_

_She reached out to caress the jeweler's face, but Shanoa caught herself before she could make contact. Her hand trembled in the air as a strange feeling washed over her._

'_I want… something…'_

_What did she want? Something clawed within her now; something awakened by the realization that, in every sense of the word, this woman was the most beautiful person she had ever seen. A sudden wish for something unidentifiable that rested in the tips of her fingers as they reached out to close the distance between them._

'_A wish for what?'_

Now she understood.

_A wish to hold you, to touch you, to know all of you and be known in kind. Because I want __**you**__ with a fervent desire that burns stronger than anything else I have felt before, and only you will be enough to satisfy my yearning._

Shanoa screamed; her wail a mixture of all things desperate and infuriating. She wrenched her hand away from where it was buried. This was not what she wanted. She wanted _her_. She wanted _her_ for all of the most sinful reasons.

She wanted Laura. The tears came at last and she sobbed as she dug her fingers into the dirt beneath her. She wanted Laura, and it made her feel every bit as wicked as the men who fell before her Glyphs.

The world spun as she cried. She hated feeling like this: broken, terrified, and alone.

"Shanoa?" Her heart stopped when she heard Laura's voice. She froze, her body paralyzed as the jeweler knelt on the ground beside her. "I heard a scream and I-" Shanoa felt a comforting hand rest against the middle of her back and she scrambled away from Laura. The warrior twisted her body around and backed up against a nearby tree. Her blue eyes were wild with fear as she met Laura's concerned gaze. The jeweler was fully dressed, but her hair hung in long, wet tendrils around her face. How long had she cried?

"You can't touch me," Shanoa said in a ragged breath. "You can't _ever_ touch me."

"Why not? What's happened?" Laura attempted to move closer to the younger woman, but Shanoa pressed her back harder against the tree.

"Please."

"Shanoa?"

"You can't…" Her voice trembled and she knew it wouldn't take much at this point.

"Why are you crying?" The entreaty in Laura's voice almost undid her.

"You'll only make it worse!" Her words echoed off the surrounding trees and Laura stared at her in a combination of shock and confusion.

"Make what worse?" the jeweler asked.

"I can't…" Shanoa sobbed. She was as broken and spent as that morning when she sought escape into the squall. Her defenses were foregone. If Laura pushed her for answers Shanoa knew she wouldn't be able to keep them hidden.

"Shanoa, please tell me." Laura gently insisted as she moved a terse few inches closer.

"Tell me to kill it," Shanoa said. It was a desperate demand made in an unsteady voice.

"What?"

"Tell me to kill it, and I will." The words flew from the warrior's mouth without a second thought or regard. "All you need to do is tell me to kill it. With just two simple words I will destroy every shred of this yearning. I will extinguish this goddamn fire, because if it continues to consume me I will lose control. I will lose _you_, and I'm determined not to lose anyone else. I lost Albus through my own faults, but I will not lose this bond I have with you." Shanoa trembled as more tears fell from her eyes. "So please, Laura, just tell me to kill this… this parasite and I will. But if you don't tell me to kill it then it will never cease. I need to hear you say it." She sobbed again. "So please…"

Laura was silent for a long moment as she processed what Shanoa had just said. After what felt like an age she crept closer until she was face to face with the warrior. Shanoa turned her head away, terrified of what she'd see in those amber eyes, but Laura placed a hand underneath her chin and gently coaxed the warrior to look at her.

"Shanoa, why are you crying?" Laura repeated the question. That strange look had returned to the jeweler's eyes. Whatever unidentifiable emotions it conveyed had the power to break the last of Shanoa's resistance.

"Because I want you." The confession came out in a whisper. "I want you in the worst possible way."

Laura's expression did not change. She simply wrapped her hands behind Shanoa's head and pulled her into a kiss.

Shanoa's mind went blank. She sat there in complete and utter shock. Neither of them moved; Laura simply held her there. At length Shanoa felt the older woman shudder and she raised a hand to cup Laura's cheek. She was surprised to find the skin damp. Shanoa broke the kiss and pulled back just far enough to see that Laura had begun to cry. The jeweler stared into Shanoa's eyes; deep amber glistened with barely contained emotion and in that moment Shanoa swore that Laura looked as vulnerable as she felt.

"I've been so terrified… if you knew that I…" Laura could hardly manage to say her own confession.

"How long?" Shanoa asked in bewilderment.

"Always."

Suddenly, Shanoa recognized everything contained within that mysterious look she saw in Laura's eyes. It was pure, raw need; a burning desire that mirrored the yearning that had plagued the warrior. Shanoa had been subjected to these feelings for a scant few days, but Laura had felt their ire for months. She endured her turmoil in silence, and Shanoa had been blind to it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" A twang of guilt stirred within her chest.

"The same reasons why you didn't tell me," Laura said with a weak smile.

"I'm a complete fool." Shanoa sighed and leaned her forehead against the jeweler's.

"You can be rather obtuse at times," Laura said with a playful glint in her eyes. Shanoa chuckled and her lips curved into a small smile.

"Sometimes I wonder why you put up with me."

"You're worth holding onto. Yes, you can be naïve and dense." The jeweler winced slightly. "Not to mention you're filled to the brim with a wealth of repressed emotions, but you have a beautiful heart. You're the most sincere person I've ever met."

"I've been lying about my feelings for you. That doesn't seem very sincere to me."

"But you couldn't live with that lie. That's why we're here now." Laura trailed her fingers down the warrior's cheek. "There's something unique about you. Your heart can't abide a lie. You uncovered Ecclesia's lies, you fought against the lies perpetrated by grief, and you've even rejected lies you've seen in my own past." The jeweler's eyes sparkled. "You're the light that pierces the frail darkness that surrounds a lie. You chase the night away until all that remains is the raw truth."

Shanoa was at a loss for words. This woman thought so highly of her, and she had at one point deigned to throw her life away. She had no idea she meant this much to Laura. If she had known-

_But I know now._

Shanoa leaned forward and kissed Laura again. She hoped that her action could speak in lieu of the proper words. It was the most basic contact, but Shanoa felt the kiss sweep away her turbulent emotions and usher in a sea of calm.

"I think," Laura said once they broke apart, "we have a lot to talk about."

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> the alterations in this chapter once again consisted of structural edits and some dialogue changes. Otherwise I've always been pleased with it.

One of the trickiest aspects of writing is figuring out how to approach sex. There are plenty of stories that focus solely on sex and treat the rest of the plot as either filler or as a convenient excuse to write about sex. I can't do that in my writing. I always try to present sex in a way that fuels some form of plot or character development. This isn't a story about sex, rather it's a story with sex in it.

My ultimate goal with this fic is to explore story elements and characterization that weren't touched upon in the game. I want to create a vision of where these characters could end up after the credit scroll. To that end I've done my best to present a blossoming romance that wasn't forced or contrived. Truth is, we fumble around in love, and there are decidedly awkward moments, but they can all lead to self-discovery.

Whenever sex appears in my writing I try to utilize it as a learning experience. Albus and Shanoa's conversation on the subject offered an excellent look at the nature of their relationship. They were siblings in every sense: they played together, laughed, joked, and had embarrassingly uncomfortable discussions. Shanoa's attempt at self-satisfaction in this chapter illustrates her mounting frustration and forces her to accept the full breadth of her feelings.

I want sex to achieve something more profound than simply titillating the audience. I want it to convey a deeper meaning. I hope I've managed to do that in this story.


	15. What I Am

**Author's note:** this is by far the longest chapter, and it managed to get even longer in the re-writing process. There's just no good place to divide it into multiple chapters as the build-up is crucial to the overall emotional impact. I apologize for the length, but it's necessary.

* * *

><p>Chapter Fifteen<p>

_What I Am_

Laura loved her. While the jeweler had not outright said the words Shanoa had seen the truth of it reflected in her eyes. Laura loved her, and it was the last thing the warrior expected.

However, if Laura's behavior was any indication, Shanoa was not the only one who was surprised by this turn of events.

They made their way back to the fire and finished setting up camp. Shanoa paused with her bedroll in hand as she found herself faced with the dilemma of just where to place it. Laura had said there were things they needed to discuss, and Shanoa was filled with more questions now than ever. Yet she also knew what the books dictated came after the confession, and faced with the real possibility of it happening _to _her left the warrior strangely terrified. Kissing Laura had felt wonderful, but once the intensity of the moment had passed Shanoa's nerves began to stir.

Still, she trusted Laura with her vulnerability; in all its forms.

"I'm not sure where I should roll out my mat," Shanoa said in a meek voice as Laura finished placing her own near the fire. There was a fleeting look of uncertainty on the jeweler's face, but it dissipated when she rose to her feet.

"It's not a question of where you 'should' place it. Where do you _want_ to place it?"

"I don't really know." A blush erupted on the warrior's face. Why did she suddenly feel so foolish? Laura appeared to sense her nervousness and approached the younger woman with a warm smile. She reached out and cupped Shanoa's cheek.

"You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Just having you here, and knowing that you feel…" The jeweler's expression wavered for a moment. "It's more than I ever thought was possible." Shanoa tilted her head and leaned into Laura's palm.

"I just want to be close to you," she said. Laura's eyes glistened at her words.

"Come." Her hand left the younger woman's face and trailed down her bicep before she gave Shanoa's arm a slight tug. The warrior's heart pounded as they laid her bedroll next to Laura's. When that task was finished Laura simply sat down on top of her mat. Shanoa followed suit and they stared at each other in contemplative silence.

It was strange to note the change in Laura's demeanor as it shifted from her familiar supportive confidence to one of utter bewilderment. She seemed almost afraid that Shanoa would vanish into thin air. The warrior resolved to combat that sentiment and slid her hands into Laura's to assert the fact that she was, indeed, real.

"So it's not just me, then." Shanoa broke the silence.

"What do you mean?" Laura gave her a puzzled look.

"I had no idea that it was even possible for a person to be attracted to someone of the same gender."

"It's not something that society generally approves of, but you're far from the only person who's experienced such a desire." The jeweler's mouth twitched into a slight smile. "Though I'm not surprised by your lack of knowledge on the subject." Shanoa shook her head. Every day she learned something new of the world that existed outside the bounds of Ecclesia's control.

"I thought there was something wrong with me."

"There is _nothing_ wrong with you," Laura said with surprising fervor. "Just because something is different that doesn't make it wrong." The hard resolution in her tone caught Shanoa off guard. It dawned on her that this might not be the first time Laura had experienced such a longing.

"I take it I'm not the first woman you've been attracted to."

"Far from it," Laura said with a wry smile. "I've had to wrestle with this subject my entire life."

"How is that possible? When did you realize you were attracted to women?"

"Remember what you said the other day about being a warrior at heart? That you were born a fighter? It's essentially the same thing." A flash of loneliness rippled in the jeweler's expression. "I've always known that I did not look at men the way other women did. I recall watching couples in my village when I was a child and I knew even then that I wanted something different."

"No wonder you find Marcel so insufferable," Shanoa said. Laura smirked at her mention of the journalist.

"It has nothing to do with attraction. Marcel is just an ass."

"So, you've never looked at a man and…" Shanoa wrestled with the proper wording. "_Wanted_ him?"

"Sexually?" The warrior blushed, but she nodded. Laura chuckled and the delightful sound helped to ease her embarrassment. "No, that's never happened. Don't get me wrong, I can look at a man and understand whatever appeal he may have. If he's handsome then I can appreciate his features. If he's muscular then I can appreciate his strength. If he's intelligent I can appreciate his mind, but my affections have always been platonic." Laura shrugged. "I believe attraction should come naturally, but I've never gazed upon a man and felt even a shred of the same desire that swells within me when I see a gorgeous woman." There was a glimmer in Laura's eyes when she said the word "gorgeous" that made Shanoa's heart skip a beat.

"Do you think I'm gorgeous?" she asked. The look on Laura's face answered her question before the jeweler could voice her response.

"In every way," she said in a breathless tone. Her adoration made Shanoa uncomfortable for some reason. Perhaps it was due to the general absence of such praise in her life up until recent months. Attractiveness was rarely commented upon within the Order; at least in her presence. Shanoa wondered if that censorship was related to the elders' wishes to keep her ignorant of lust.

"That's strange…" she said in a quiet voice.

"Why?"

"I've just never thought of myself as being beautiful."

"Well, I hope your perception changes, because you are stunning," Laura said with a smile that eradicated any doubts Shanoa had on the subject. They sat in silence once again as Shanoa mulled over everything that Laura had told her.

"I don't think I'm the same as you," the warrior said after a time.

"What do you mean?"

"This is the first time I've ever been – I guess 'attracted' _is_ the right word here." She paused a moment to put her thoughts in order. "What I mean is you're the first person I've felt a legitimate attraction towards. My only real exposure to romance has been through various romantic stories and books I snuck from Ecclesia's archives. I read them out of fascination more than anything else, though. I never imagined that I was a character in one of those books because I couldn't translate romance into my personal life. As I mentioned on the ferry, until now there hasn't been anyone in my life that I've been drawn to; man or woman. So I don't think it's a matter of what gender you are, it's just… you." Shanoa allowed her wealth of affection to play across her face. She raised her right arm and stroked Laura's cheek with the back of her hand. "I want you because of _who_ you are. What you are doesn't change that."

Something caved behind Laura's eyes and Shanoa's breath caught in her throat as a sea of walls fell before her. She realized that – for the first time – Laura was not hiding anything. Shanoa's mind raced to identify everything she saw in that well of amber, but one aspect was evident above all else: Laura's weakness.

"I don't know how you're doing it, but you're breaking into every part of me." Laura's tone held a mixture of awe and surprise. "It's almost terrifying."

"That makes two of us," Shanoa said with a reassuring smile. The jeweler continued to stare at her in disbelief.

"I thought they lied to me, but they were right all along," she said in a voice that seemed caught in a trance. Shanoa gave her a quizzical look.

"Who lied to you?"

"The cards…" Laura blushed.

"What cards?"

"I- I came to Wygol because of a Tarot reading." The jeweler's cheeks turned from pink to bright red. "I thought I was a fool to have put such faith in them, but they were right all along." The revelation only deepened Shanoa's confusion. How did Tarot cards relate to the current topic of conversation? Unless…

"Did they say something about me?" Shanoa asked. Laura tensed at the question and the walls that had previously receded rose back up in full force.

"In a sense, but that's quite the inadequate answer." The jeweler fell silent and turned her head away from Shanoa, suddenly unable to look her in the eyes. Shanoa hesitated as she contemplated what to do. She was so close to breaking down those damned barriers that Laura had erected around her heart, but they weren't the kind of fortifications that she could destroy with sheer force. Laura made her feel safe, and Shanoa wanted more than anything to show the jeweler that she could give her that same sense of security. But how could she prove it?

Her mind drifted to Eugen's insightful speech.

"_Do you think that Laura is just helping you for the hell of it? That she took you in because she's some kind of Good Samaritan? I've known her for three years now and that woman's heart has been locked away tighter than a wild animal in a cage. She let a piece of it out for Monica and those kids, but never the true breadth of it. No, you're the only one who has managed to break through her defenses. Whatever you did, whatever you said, it changed her. It brought the real Laura out of hiding."_

What had she done?

"_You're the light that pierces the frail darkness that surrounds a lie. You chase the night away until all that remains is the raw truth."_

Sincerity was the answer. If she couldn't break the walls by physical might then she could break them with honesty. Shanoa cradled Laura's face in her hands.

_I can show you the truth._

Shanoa felt a surge of confidence as she gently pulled the jeweler closer. She heard Laura gasp as the warrior snaked her right arm around the other woman's waist. There was an eruption of heat in her abdomen as Laura came flush against her, but that did not stall the warrior. Shanoa wrapped her left hand in Laura's hair and drew her into another kiss.

There was something different about this kiss. Whether it was due to the newfound confidence or her amplified desire, Shanoa could not say, but it hardly mattered. What she needed to prove was that she was real, and she didn't plan on going away. Laura's response was almost instantaneous; she clung to Shanoa as she tried to move her lips in tandem with the warrior's. It felt awkward at first as Shanoa's total inexperience got the better of her, but – she realized – it was all about rhythm. That was something she had an innate understanding of. Just as she studied an enemy's motions in battle she studied the movement of Laura's lips and before long they both moved in a blessed synchronization that left the warrior breathless.

Eventually the need to breathe drove them apart and Shanoa pulled back so she could look into Laura's eyes. She felt immense pride when she noted that the jeweler's fortifications had receded once again.

"Laura, I trust you with my weakness. I hope you'll trust me with yours." She felt the older woman tremble at her words, but she pressed on. "I see now that it was foolish of me to hide my feelings from you. I'm so used to keeping secrets that I've become adept at hiding, but I don't want to hide anymore. I don't have to, and neither do you." Shanoa's eyes gleamed with determination as she drove her point home. "You've told me about your father and the burden of your Belmont blood. You can tell me about this, too." Laura closed her eyes.

"You can't abide a lie, but I can." The jeweler's voice wavered as she spoke.

"Then let me prove to you its falsehood."

"There are so many things I've never said," Laura whispered.

"And there's so much that I don't know, but I do know what I feel for you. I know that whatever you're afraid of won't change that." There was no question or doubt in her words. In that moment Shanoa felt she could battle the entire world and emerge victorious.

"Do you really mean that?" Laura opened her eyes. She looked so fragile; as if the slightest crack could shatter her. Shanoa briefly wondered if this was what she looked like that morning she had first knocked on the jeweler's door.

"I would never lie to you about something like this," the warrior said. Laura slowly exhaled.

"I'm not like you, Shanoa. I'm a coward. I've been running my entire life, and I don't know if I can stop." Another tremor coursed through her.

"Laura, please tell me what you're afraid of." The entreaty in Shanoa's voice finally broke through the last of the jeweler's restraint.

"Hell." Her utterance of that single word laid bare her insecurities. Laura's eyes were consumed by the complete vulnerability brought on by a deep seeded fear. Shanoa was allowed to glimpse it for a brief moment before Laura squeezed her eyes shut. "I can pretend that the word doesn't terrify me. I can put on a mask and make you believe I'm confident, but I'm not. You don't know what they say about people like me." Laura's eyelids opened a mere crack, but it was enough for Shanoa to see an intense anger join the lurid fear. "You don't know what they do to us."

"You can tell me about this pain," Shanoa said in an encouraging voice.

"I don't want to drag you down with me." Laura appeared to be on the brink of tears.

"I don't fear Hell." The warrior held her tighter. "I have gazed upon its winding depths. I have cut a bloody path through it. I have tread that road before, and Hell doesn't have the strength to hold me."

"It doesn't matter." Laura tried to argue in vain. "They'll say you're one of the damned now. Worse, they'll say I planted a seed of evil in you."

"And they'll be wrong. There's nothing evil about my feelings for you, and I know full-well what evil looks like." The confusion and frustration of the past few days were gone from the warrior's heart. They had been driven away by the realization that she had nothing to fear. She saw a shift in Laura's demeanor at her declaration. The jeweler remained rigid with tension for a few moments before she sighed and almost fell limp in Shanoa's arms.

"I know you're right, I truly do, but knowing something and believing it are two different things." Laura moved her right hand so she could trail her fingers down Shanoa's cheek. "I know that I'm not damned, but old lies are hard to refute. Because, despite that knowledge, there's still a large part of me that believes I am."

"You showed me how to let go of my past. Let me do the same for you." Shanoa gave her a warm, supportive smile.

"Mine is not a happy tale." The jeweler frowned.

"I have blazed through Hell. I can handle whatever your story attempts to throw at me."

Laura closed her eyes and fell silent for a few minutes. Shanoa waited patiently as the jeweler collected herself. When she opened her eyes they were glazed over with recollection.

"There's no privacy in a secluded mountain village. Your neighbors don't just know your name; they know every detail of your life. They know the friends you keep, what you like and what you hate. My parents sought isolation and they found its very essence in Baia. The only visitors we received were traveling merchants, but their scheduled visits were just another part of the monotony. In a place like that – cut off from the rest of the world – it's hard to keep secrets. And if your particular secret happens to involve something that people don't approve of." The jeweler tensed again. "You better hope to God that there's at least one forgiving soul amongst them.

"I learned to hide my unconventional desires from an early age. I wasn't the most sociable child, and divulging the nature of my attractions to the other children only served to exacerbate the rift between us…

_It was mid-afternoon by the time Laura's father had deemed her archery lesson finished for the day. The setback did not leave her much free time before dinner, but Laura was determined to make the most of it. Her daily training was steadily becoming more intensive and her father seemed keen to take her on a hunt. She prayed that was not the case. It was one thing to shoot a straw target, but she could not fathom shooting a living creature. _

_Laura willed her mind free of the unpleasant train of thought. She would not sully her brief freedom with that grizzly prospect. The girl bounded towards the village square to see if any of the other children were available to play._

_There was one good thing about Baia's small size: when Laura went looking for someone it was easy to find them. She soon spied Felix and Christina huddled in an alley that ran between two stores near the center of town. The pair was watching something with keen interest and they didn't notice the dark-haired girl slink into the alley. Laura cracked a mischievous grin and crept up behind the duo without making a sound. Once they were within arm's length she reached out and tapped them on their shoulders. They jumped at her touch; Felix let out a startled cry while Christina covered her mouth with her hands to stifle a scream. Laura beamed as they whirled around to face her._

"_Gotcha," she said in a teasing tone._

"_How many times do I have to tell you to stop doing that?" Christina glowered at her. Laura's antics never seemed to amuse the other girl._

"_Did I wet my pants?" Felix glanced down to check for himself. Thankfully, his clothes were dry._

"_Lighten up, you two, it was just a joke," Laura said._

"_Well it's not funny! Can't you find even a single way to have fun without being a complete creep?" Christina continued to scowl. Laura rolled her eyes._

"_I'm going to let that comment slide for now. What are you guys doing hiding in an alley?" she asked._

"_We're watching the lovebirds," Felix said with a sly grin and he pointed across the street. The dark outline of what appeared to be a lone figure was huddled in the alley opposite them. When Laura leaned in for a better look she realized that the supposedly single figure was in reality two people pressed against each other. "They've been kissing for ages." The boy finished with a childish giggle._

"_It looks like they're doing more than kissing," Laura said as the figures shifted in the shadows. Christina stroked her chin._

"_And what would you know about that?" she asked in an accusing tone._

"_I know a lot more than you do," Laura said with a side-long glance._

"_That must be the gypsy half talking." The other girl sneered at her._

"_We're called Romani, not gypsies!" Laura's volume momentarily increased before Felix shushed her. She nodded and crossed her arms over her chest. "Besides, everything I know about it I learned from reading books. If you were literate I would give you some suggestions."_

"_You two can't even go a minute without fighting," Felix said with a groan. "Would it kill you to be quiet? I know the larger one is Trevor, but I can't figure out who he's got backed up against the wall." Christina stuck her tongue out at Laura. The dark-haired girl pulled a face in retort. Christina made a noise that sounded like an indignant huff and turned towards Felix._

"_It's Dana," she said, "see the outline of her hair? Dana always wears it up like that."_

"_Are you sure?" Felix asked._

"_Positive, but that doesn't make sense." Christina tilted her head to the side in thought. "What would a girl like her be doing with Trevor? He's too attractive for her."_

"_You're only saying that because you wish he was kissing you right now instead of her." Felix jeered at the blonde girl. Christina frowned and boxed his ears. "Ow!"_

"_Oh, leave him alone." Laura grabbed Christina's shoulders and pulled her away from the boy. The blonde jerked out of her grasp and straightened the bodice of her dress with an indignant huff. Laura shook her head. "Trevor is too old for us anyway."_

"_What do you mean by 'us'? Do you like him too?" Christina's tone turned icy at the prospect of more competition. Laura's eyes widened at her suggestion._

"_No, I just-"_

"_That's it, isn't it?" Christina growled and pointed an accusing finger at the other girl. "That's why you're always so quick to pick a fight with me! You're jealous because you know that Trevor would choose me over you any day!"_

"_I don't even like Trevor!" Laura's insistence did not appease the blonde._

"_That's ridiculous! How could you not fancy a man like him?"_

"_I just don't like him." Laura paused a moment as she mulled over how to voice her feelings on the subject. "To be honest, if I had my choice, I'd rather kiss Dana." Her words cast a heavy silence over the trio. Felix and Christina gaped at her as they struggled to comprehend what she had just admitted._

"_You'd rather… kiss another girl?" Felix was the first to speak up._

"_Yes, I would." Laura gulped and began to regret her decision to tell them. Christina shook her head._

"_That's just gross, Laura! How could you even say something like that? Kiss another girl?" She shuddered. "Where did you get that idea? You don't see anyone else in the village behaving that way!" Laura narrowed her eyes at Christina._

"_It's not gross-"_

"_Yes it is!" The blonde pointed an accusing finger at her. "Face it, Laura; you're a freak of nature! You're the half-blood child of a gypsy witch and some mountain man, you act like a thief, and now you want to kiss other girls! You're a freak, and the sooner you accept that the better."_

_Laura's right hand curled into a fist, but she thought better of it. Instead, she glared daggers at Christina. The dark-haired girl tried to come up with a biting retort, but words failed her. In truth, she didn't fully understand the desire herself. Christina was right about one thing: no one else in the village seemed to have these affections for people of the same gender. Usually Laura didn't pay much attention to it, but as of late the strange longings had become harder to ignore._

_She grimaced and turned her back to the pair as a frightening thought occurred to her. What if she __**was**__ a freak? What if her affections were an abnormality? She wouldn't give Christina the satisfaction of seeing her doubt, but she craved to know the reason behind this desire._

_The questions hounded her throughout the rest of the afternoon and well into dinner. Laura sat in silence at her usual place at the table as she mulled over the subject in her head. What did it mean? Why did she feel a different form of this universal urge? In the past she had invested time in searching through the vast number of books in her mother's collection for a character who faced this similar anomaly, but she found nothing. Was it just her? If so, then why did she feel this in the first place? What had caused it? Laura prodded her food with her fork as she tried to make some sense of it._

"_Are you all right, Laura?" her mother asked in a concerned voice. "You've only eaten a few bites of your dinner. Are you feeling ill?"_

"_No! I'm just…" A thought occurred to her. If she couldn't find the answers on her own then perhaps her parents could shed some light on it. They weren't her first choice of counsel, but they were well-traveled. "I have a question, actually. I'm just not sure…" She hesitated to say it out loud._

"_Well, out with it," her father said impatiently. Laura gulped and she felt her face flush red._

"_Is it possible for someone to look at someone else of the same gender…?" She reconsidered her choice of phrasing. "Say a girl looks at another girl and finds herself wanting to… kiss her? Is that odd?" Laura asked at last. Her parents paused and looked at each other. Something unspoken passed between them before her father replied._

"_Who put such a ridiculous idea in your head?" His tone held a dangerous edge to it. Laura's eyes cut to her mother, but the woman stared down at her plate in contemplative silence. She would not be much help to her._

"_What? No one did, I just wanted to know if it was strange," Laura said. Her father's eyes narrowed._

"_Of course it's strange-" he said before her mother raised her hand._

"_Sometimes a person will go through… a phase." The older woman chose her words carefully. "A period of time where they find themselves attracted to people of the same gender, but it's only temporary."_

"_It seems to manifest as adolescent rebellion." Her father made a sound of disapproval. "Eventually all of them come to their senses and they grow out of it." Laura's brow furrowed in confusion. That didn't make any sense in her case. If it was related to adolescence then why was she feeling it now? Why had she felt it her entire life?_

"_What if it's not a phase?" she asked. "What if it's always been there?"_

"_It's a temporary condition." He made sure to hold his daughter's gaze as he spoke. "When people mature they grow out of it, and in time so will you."_

_Laura froze in shock. Was she that transparent? She opened her mouth to object, but her mother shook her head. Any argument would be futile. Laura groaned and her eyes fell to her plate._

_Perhaps it was best that she defer to their judgment. Her parents knew more about the subject than she did. Maybe this was something that would go away in time. Maybe in a few years she'd yearn for Trevor's affections and look back on these feelings as a childhood quirk._

"But I didn't grow out of it," Laura said with a sigh. "As the years went by my desires intensified rather than waned. I craved feminine intimacy, but I wasn't a fool. After that conversation with my parents I knew that I had to hide such attractions, and my time with the caravan served to strengthen that resolve. No matter where I traveled romantic love always looked the same. It was shared between a man and a woman; sex required both genders. It wasn't restricted to Baia. The entire world was built upon such principles, and there was no place for someone like me."

"It must have been very lonely." Shanoa could sympathize on that point, but a thought nagged at her. "Laura, you told me something interesting on the ferry. You said that you envied the fact that I'd never been in love because that spared me the grief of losing it." She felt Laura shudder as the jeweler realized what she was about to ask. "Who did you lose?" Another minute of silence passed between them as Laura contemplated how to respond.

"I've never told anyone about her," she said as a few stray tears tumbled down her cheeks.

"Did she hurt you?" the warrior asked.

"No," Laura said with a slight shake of her head. "But she was a catalyst." She continued to hesitate; reluctant to revisit this aspect of her past.

"You can tell me about this pain." Shanoa wiped away a few of Laura's tears with her fingers. "You can stop running." The jeweler nodded and steeled herself for what was to come.

"Her name… was Natasha…

_The merchants who passed through Baia were all familiar faces in the village. The route rarely changed hands and often the merchants would stay in town for a few days to conduct business. Over time a traveling salesman would merge into Baia's social hierarchy as they made friends within the small community. In this regard they were as much a part of the monotony as the permanent residents. Baia did not draw the new and exciting._

_This woman, however, was quite the different entity._

_Laura had been enthralled with the woman from the moment she first laid eyes on her. She was a new addition to the short list of visiting merchants and seemed to think the village was a sound investment. Where the other merchants would, at most, visit on a monthly basis this woman had begun to frequent Baia twice a month. Just what exactly had sparked her interest in the quaint village remained a mystery to Laura, but she had no complaints. Though the merchant's appearance suggested she had a good five years on the seventeen-year-old the age difference hardly mattered to Laura. What mattered was the fact that, for the first time, there was someone in Baia worth swooning over._

_The woman had a wild sort of beauty to her. Though she bore the marks of extensive travel – rough hands, some weathered skin on her face – it accentuated her appeal. Laura guessed that she was of Irish descent as evidenced by her distinctive blue eyes and the bright auburn hair she kept tied back in a braid. The woman's features were defined by curves. She had an oval face, rounded nose, and plump lips that were often turned up in confidence. She was thin, but had built up muscle due to her continuous hikes through mountain country. When she strode into Baia, dirty and worn, the merchant woman struck Laura as the spitting image of an Amazonian warrior returning home from a hard fought battle._

_Laura had tried to convince herself that nothing would ever come of her affections, but she held onto a futile hope that perhaps – through some divine intervention – this woman might feel a similar attraction towards her. That she might at last experience that intimate connection she had so long desired. No amount of reasoning could divest Laura of the fantasy. So she had learned to tolerate its presence._

_In the few months since the woman first arrived in Baia their interaction had consisted of polite greetings when they passed each other on the street. They had never engaged in a conversation, which was not surprising as Laura lacked a reason to speak with her. The woman's prerogative was to conduct business, and her father remained hesitant to include Laura in the financial aspect of the family trade._

_Then, one day in early spring, everything changed._

_Laura's father had taken her on another hunting expedition. Though she had long ago resigned herself to the fact that she could not worm her way out of the excursions Laura continued to despise them. When she was younger she had dared to interfere with the success of the hunt by making "mistakes". She'd purposefully alert an animal to her presence or follow aged tracks. Her father was no fool, however, and the ensuing fallout was quite effective in discouraging Laura from sabotaging future hunts. _

_Though she was not fond of traversing through mountain country the inevitable death remained the worst aspect. Laura never became numb to the kill. The life of each beast she felled weighed heavy on her shoulders. Each time she cut an animal's throat or pierced it with an arrow Laura was transported back to that fateful clearing and the wild eyes of the buck as it stared into an endless void. Laura had learned not to look her prey in the eyes, but she could never ignore the sensation of the act._

_Their latest excursion had been a roaring success. They'd spent the better part of two days tracking down a magnificent specimen of a buck. He was proud, strong, and of tremendous size; possibly the biggest deer that Laura had ever seen. The first time they ambushed him Laura had wounded the beast, but the arrow did not deliver a fatal strike. The buck managed to get away, though it left a trail of blood in its wake. They tailed the buck until nightfall when they were forced to rest. The buck did not succumb to its wound until the early hours of the morning when it collapsed from exhaustion. When they caught up to the beast it was near death; it lay panting in the middle of the open forest. On her father's command Laura had slit its throat. The sensation lingered on her hands. Hours later she could still feel the blood gush out of the buck's flesh to spill on the forest floor._

_Once they had dragged the carcass back to Baia they soon discovered that the three members of their household would not be able to consume the sheer amount of meat the buck provided. Her parents were loath to allow anything to go to waste. They butchered almost half the meat, salted it, and sent Laura to sell it at the general store. _

_Trevor was working the counter that day. He could be difficult to barter with, but Laura knew that overt flirting was enough to sway his mind. She made sure her breasts were on prominent display and cooed over his every word. The negotiations were brief and weighed heavily in her favor. Laura left the shop feeling victorious. The wave of pride at her success began to wash away the unpleasant emotional conflicts of the morning kill._

"_I didn't have you marked as the type to go hunting." Laura paused at the unfamiliar voice and turned in the direction it had come from. Her heart began to race when she recognized who had spoken. The red-haired merchant leaned against the side of the building. A sly, almost playful smile touched the woman's pink lips as she watched the teenager and her large eyes sparkled with a strange mirth. Laura's mind went blank for a few moments before she realized she hadn't responded._

"_Well, I don't go by choice," Laura said. She somehow managed to sound nonchalant, but she felt a blush form on her cheeks. She was not prepared for this and Laura became suddenly well-aware of the fact that her breasts were still played up for show._

"_Oh? Then why do you go?" the woman asked._

"_Familial obligation," Laura said with a disgusted sneer. The woman nodded in understanding, pushed herself off the wall, and walked over to her._

"_I don't believe we've been formally introduced." She extended her right hand. "My name is Natasha."_

"_I'm Laura. It's a pleasure to meet you." The teenager gave her a firm handshake. There was a flurry of excitement in Laura's stomach when their hands touched, but her mask of polite indifference did not waver._

"_You're the jeweler's daughter, correct?" Natasha asked._

"_That's right," she said with a slight nod._

"_Excellent, I was wondering if you could do me a favor." Some small cloth pouches were tied to the merchant's belt. She undid the knot that held one in place and it came free in her hand. "Your father and I have entered into a blossoming business partnership. The last time I was here he gave me a few pieces of jewelry and I was able to sell all of them in other villages along my route. This pouch contains his share of the profits, but I couldn't find him when I arrived in town yesterday. When I saw you through the front window I thought that perhaps you could save me a trip."_

"_I'd be glad to help in any way that I can," Laura said with a smile and took the pouch from the merchant._

"_Thanks, I appreciate it." Natasha returned the smile and turned to leave. She paused after a moment and looked back at Laura. "Oh, and should you need to find me for any reason, I'm staying in the spare room at the tavern." Laura was confused by the statement, but before she could inquire about it the red-haired woman had walked away._

'_Well, that was interesting.'_

_Laura glanced at the pouch in her hand. She wasn't sure why the merchant had tasked her with the errand in the first place. Their house was located on the far edge of town, but it was not a long walk. Perhaps Natasha had thought it more convenient to let the teenager do her legwork, but then why did she make a comment about the tavern?_

_She pondered the merchant's behavior as she walked home. No doubt she was reading too much into the conversation, but a part of her entertained the idea that Natasha had gone out of her way to speak to the teenager. That she had intentionally divulged her accommodations to Laura as an invitation-_

_No, she was definitely reading too much into it._

_Laura's father had not moved from where she had last seen him near a wooden workbench behind their house. He was still busy cutting up the rest of the venison with a large meat cleaver. Laura caught his eye and he looked up as she approached._

"_Did you sell the meat?" he asked. She responded with a nod. "That was fast." He wiped his blood-stained hands on a dirty cloth rag tied to his belt. Once his hands were relatively clean Laura gave him the money she bartered off Trevor. He cracked a small, triumphant smile when he finished counting the coins. "Someone got played the fool." Laura hated the small spark of joy that flared within her at his praise._

"_There's one more thing." She tossed him the cloth pouch. Her father deftly caught the bag with his free hand and gave her a questioning look. "The merchant woman, Natasha, sold all your pieces. She asked me to deliver the profits." He tested the weight of the pouch and nodded._

"_I take it she's back in town?" he asked as he pocketed the money._

"_Yes, she claims to have gotten in last night, but we were otherwise occupied." A hint of disgust lined Laura's tone._

"_I see, that being the case I want you to run another errand for me." He picked up the cleaver and resumed butchering what remained of the buck. "This Natasha shows some promise." His words were accented by powerful strokes as the cleaver drove through the bleeding red flesh. "There are some new pieces I'd like you to bring her."_

"_Very well." Laura gulped at the exciting – yet terrifying – prospect of conversing with the beautiful merchant again. "Which ones did you have in mind?"_

"_There's a set of five rings in a wooden box on top of my worktable. They'll drive a higher bargain, but if she manages to make a sizeable profit then we'll be in business. Tell her the arrangement remains the same: a sixty/forty split of the earnings. If she tries to convince you otherwise." He paused and pointed at Laura with the blade of the meat cleaver. "I want you to remind her that we're not some backwoods imbeciles."_

"_Did you have a particular method in mind? You know, in case that happens." Laura was curious to know if her father was suggesting that she use physical force to persuade the merchant to honor a deal. She could handle herself in a straight-up bout, but she never had to resort to force as a negotiation tactic. He shook his head._

"_No, but you're a reader. You'll think of something."_

"_Right…" Laura frowned. She wondered if he recognized the difference between sour business negotiations and a brawl._

_She retrieved the box from inside the house and headed back to the center of town. Laura's heart thumped in her chest as she walked. This had to be the true reason why Natasha had told her about the rented room. The merchant probably anticipated that her father would be pleased by the outcome of their last arrangement and inclined to continue the partnership. To that end Natasha had decided to save them the trouble of looking all over town for her. It was, of course, the most logical explanation._

_Yet the fact remained that Laura could find herself alone in a room with Natasha. It was nigh impossible for the teenager to sort through all the feelings that prospect elicited. Every nerve in her body felt electrified and there was a constant flurry in her stomach that grew in intensity with every step. However – underneath her nervousness – a steady burn coursed through her blood. It gave Laura a sense of conviction that she had never experienced before; one that encouraged her to act upon unspeakable urges. Laura reminded herself that the likelihood of any shared attraction was remote at best, but this new conviction was intoxicating. It soon drowned out everything else, even basic reason._

_By the time she reached the tavern Laura had devolved into a mixture of two extremes. From a physical standpoint she was wound up in a tight coil; her body poised to spring at the slightest touch. What puzzled her, though, was the emotional clarity that had overtaken her. A strange determination swelled inside of Laura spurred on by a burning desire to simply reach out and take what she wanted._

_But she was here for business, not pleasure._

_The tavern was empty during the daylight hours as most of the villagers worked until sunset. Once the work day was finished the tavern became the liveliest spot in Baia. People wouldn't start trickling in for another hour or two, but Petru was busy wiping down the bar in preparation for the evening rush. The tall, gray-haired man had been a laborer before he assumed ownership of the tavern and while he had retained most of the muscular bulk from his previous profession Petru had gotten pudgy around the stomach. He looked up when he heard the door open and smiled at the teenager._

"_Afternoon, Laura. Do you need something?"_

"_Not from you, I'm afraid." She walked up to the counter. "I hear you have a guest staying in the upstairs room."_

"_Ah, you're referring to the merchant woman," Petru said with a nod. "She rents the room whenever she passes through town."_

"_Do you know if she's there right now? I need to discuss some business with her." Laura showed him the box._

"_I believe so. She went upstairs a little while ago and I haven't seen or heard her come back down. You can go check for yourself. It'll be the first door on your left." Petru pointed to the far side of the tavern where a set of worn wooden stairs led to the second floor._

"_Thanks, Petru," Laura said with a grateful smile and headed for the staircase. She did not encounter any obstacles until she stopped in front of the door to the spare room. Laura hesitated before the imposing barrier. What would she find on the other side of the door? She paused and took a deep breath._

'_Get ahold of yourself. You're just meeting a normal woman in a tavern. There's no reason for you to treat her different. Just pretend that you don't want to throw her on the bed and ravish her. You can do this.'_

_Her internal pep talk managed to calm Laura down to the point where she trusted herself to behave like a sane individual. She knocked on the door._

"_Who is it?" Natasha's voice was muffled through the wood._

"_It's Laura. I have a delivery from my father." She heard the floorboards creak before the bolt unlatched and the door swung inward to reveal a smiling Natasha._

"_I had a feeling you'd be stopping by." She motioned for Laura to enter. The teenager stepped inside before she had the chance to rethink her life choices._

_The spare room wasn't spacious, but it served its purpose. A large window on the left wall let in daylight, though any view it might have offered was blocked by the leaves of an old oak tree that grew beside the tavern. Some of its thick branches touched the outside of the glass. A queen sized bed extended into the middle of the room. There was a night table on the near side; an unlit oil lamp placed on top. Natasha's pack and various wares were laid out across a desk set against the right wall. There was a door in the far corner that Laura knew led to a small bath._

_Natasha shut the door behind her and sauntered around the teenager until they stood face to face. Laura's eyes made a quick scan of the older woman. She had changed into a loose-fitting white evening gown and her hair was freed from its usual braid. Natasha had washed her face; Laura could smell the faint scent of lavender soap in the air. Though it was a simple change, she looked gorgeous. Laura's desire roared within her and for a split second she seriously considered dashing forward and just – _

"_What sort of gifts did you bring me?" Natasha's voice broke her free of the urge. "More jewelry, I presume?" Laura forced her mind to focus on the moment at hand and she held out the wooden box._

"_A set of rings; he assures me that their quality surpasses the previous pieces. Though I don't know what he gave you last time you were in town."_

"_A few necklaces, but they were rather plain." Natasha took the box from her and looked inside. She whistled and held up one of the rings to get a better look at it. The piece in question had a band of braided silver and was set with a square emerald that glimmered in the sunlight. "Well, this is much more promising." The merchant returned the ring to its case. "Your father is quite the interesting character, but that trait seems to run in the family. Everyone isn't who they appear to be at first glance." Laura's brow knit in confusion, but Natasha continued before she could interject. "One would never suspect your father was a jeweler just by looking at him. Does he make everything himself?"_

"_Most of it." Laura frowned._

"_Who makes the rest?"_

"_I do, but my work rarely sees the light of day. Every so often I'll produce a piece that's worthy enough to sell." There was a bitter edge to Laura's tone._

"_Worthy?" Natasha gave her a puzzled look. "What happens to the unworthy pieces?"_

"_He destroys them." Laura turned her head away. "And he crafts the material into something that's actually beautiful."_

"_He sounds like a harsh teacher." Natasha noted in a soft, almost comforting tone. Laura grimaced and shook her head._

"_I don't want to talk about my father. I devote enough of my time and energy to him as it is."_

"_Oh? Then what do you want to talk about?" the merchant asked. Her question caught Laura off guard. It indicated that Natasha was open to discuss something other than business, but there was only one other subject on Laura's mind._

"_I'm not sure," the teenager said. "I just came here to deliver the rings and arrange future payment." Natasha rolled her eyes and cleared a space on the desk._

"_Your father and I previously established it's a sixty/forty split of the profits, though I'm disappointed that I don't get the chance to debate that agreement." The merchant set the box down._

"_Why not attempt to barter with me?" Laura asked._

"_Because there's a different game that I want to play with you, and getting into an argument could spoil the fun." There was a mischievous glint in the redhead's eyes as she spoke. Laura was a bit taken aback by the comment and further baffled by the responding flare of heat in her gut._

"_Do you think I'm not convincing?" she asked. Natasha chuckled and shot her a playful grin._

"_Not at all; I know you can be quite the enticing customer. I saw you play that young man in the general store like a fiddle. You were successful there, but when you're trying to sway another woman it requires a different set of skills." The redhead winked at her. Laura couldn't suppress the smile that formed on her lips. Natasha's mirth was contagious and the teenager felt her earlier surge of determination return._

"_Enlighten me, then."_

"_Bartering with another woman requires more wit," Natasha said. "Flaunting your figure rarely holds the same effect when dealing with someone of the same gender." Her wording made Laura pause and she felt her heart skip a beat._

"_Rarely?" She managed to say the word without stammering. Natasha's playful grin widened._

"_There are some cases where you can successfully use your body to sway another woman, but those are hard to come by." The merchant watched her with a keen eye. "It's best to assume that such will not be the case. Though you never know when the opportunity will present itself." Laura's mouth fell open as a realization struck her._

"_Wait, are you saying there are people out in the world who are… like that?"_

"_Like what?" Natasha tilted her head to the side. Laura's lips moved wordlessly for a few seconds as she formulated the best way to phrase it._

"_Who covet their own gender?" she asked at last. There was a momentary pause before Natasha burst into hysterical laughter._

"_I knew it!" The redhead clapped her hands together. "You, my dear, are absolutely terrible at hiding it."_

"_What?" Laura's mind went blank._

"_It's not surprising, really." Natasha did not appear to have heard her. "I doubt you've had the chance to practice way out here. I'd probably go mad if I was in your shoes. You're the only attractive woman in town. How do you manage to stay sane when everyone you're surrounded by is such bland company?"_

_Then she understood._

"_Wait, you're…" Laura gaped at the redhead. Natasha preened and took a step towards the younger woman._

"_I'm… what?" she asked. Laura could scarcely believe it. She wasn't the only one. Natasha took another step forward and Laura made a mental note of the diminished space between them._

"_Like me," the teenager whispered. Natasha's grin grew downright wicked as she closed the last of the distance and pressed up against the younger woman._

"_And what, exactly, is 'like you'?" Natasha cooed as she reached up and twirled a lock of Laura's curly hair between her fingers. The teenager flushed as the coiled tension inside her threatened to erupt._

"_Someone who-" Her voice faltered as Natasha touched her lips to the side of Laura's neck. The redhead's breath was hot against her flesh and Laura panted as the woman traced the line of her jaw. Natasha's lips made the barest of contact as they ghosted over her skin. Laura couldn't think; she could hardly breathe. Then, for a brief moment, Natasha's teeth nipped at the crook of her neck and the young woman came undone._

"_Yes?" She felt Natasha's lips form the word, but the dam had already broken. Laura grabbed the other woman's face in her hands and pulled her into a fierce kiss. Natasha was quick to assume control and backed Laura up against the closed door. Her lips moved in a powerful dance that demanded a response. Laura tried to respond in kind, but she was no match for the redhead and when Natasha's tongue slipped into her mouth Laura was swept away. All that existed was the wet heat of Natasha's mouth and the occasional light nip of teeth on her lower lip. She whined when the older woman eventually broke the kiss. The redhead appeared quite smug as she noted the response she had managed to elicit from the breathless teenager._

"_An excellent first kiss, no?" Natasha's boast was accompanied by a cocky grin._

"_This is the last thing I expected," Laura said in disbelief. She was not entirely convinced that the kiss had actually happened._

"_Are you complaining?" the redhead asked, though the answer was obvious._

"_Far from it."_

"_You never finished your sentence. What am I?" Natasha repeated her previous question. This time Laura had a definitive answer._

"_You're a woman who lusts after other women." _

"_Precisely." The redhead finished with a purr._

"_How could you tell? How did you know that I'm the same as you?" Laura's brow furrowed in confusion and worry. It was a bit unsettling to learn that she could be decoded so quickly. Though she had no qualms with the current result, Laura was not keen to let her secret become common knowledge._

"_You need to become more adept at concealing your affections," Natasha said. "Every time you look at me your eyes flash with the urge to rip off all my clothes and pin me against the nearest available surface." Laura blushed at her accurate assessment._

"_To be fair, you're the first woman I've swooned over in… well, years."_

"_Point taken." The redhead raised an eyebrow. "Years, huh? Does that mean you've never been with a woman?"_

"_I've never been with anyone."_

"_Would you like to change that?" Natasha asked with a feral glint in her eyes._

"_Is this the game you were referring to earlier?" The teenager matched the older woman's expression with a mischievous grin of her own._

"_Yes, it's one of my favorites." Natasha grasped Laura's hands and guided her over to the bed. "And judging from your performance during that kiss there are quite a few things I can teach you." The redhead pushed the younger woman onto the mattress. Laura lay on her back as Natasha moved to straddle her hips. "Fortunately I am well versed in the matter at hand."_

"_Where do we start?" Laura asked with an eager smile._

"_We'll start at the very beginning. It's a wonderful place to start." Natasha positioned Laura's hands until she grasped either side of the redhead's waist. "First there's the art of the kiss, and once you get a better understanding of that technique we can progress to something that's a lot more hands on." Laura gasped as Natasha shifted her hips and she became acutely aware of the fact that the redhead was not wearing any undergarments beneath her evening gown._

"_Will I be tested?" Laura managed to ask. Natasha chuckled as she leered over her._

"_Repeatedly," she whispered and captured Laura's lips in another kiss._

"Did you love her?" Shanoa asked after Laura had fallen silent again.

"I thought I did," she said with a sigh. "But the more I look back on it the more I've come to realize that, in the end, I never knew her well enough to have truly loved her. Our relationship was purely physical. Natasha would arrive in town, I'd find a way to sneak into her room at the tavern, and we'd have sex. That's all there was to it. I knew her name, I knew that she was Irish, but everything else in her life remained a mystery to me." Laura scoffed. "At one point it struck me that I never learned her surname."

"So why did you think you loved her?" Shanoa was impressed by love's complexity. Gaining a better understanding of how Laura felt towards this other woman could give Shanoa greater insight into her own feelings. Love and affection existed in many forms, and the warrior wished to understand all of them as best she could.

"Natasha was the only woman I could love, or – more importantly – trust with the nature of my secret. I was young and fixated on the physical fulfillment she gave me. I began to believe that I couldn't have that same kind of relationship with anyone else, and to that end I thought I loved her." Laura hesitated as she chose her next words carefully. "I was trapped in Baia. Natasha didn't just reveal that she too lusted after women, but that there was a hidden strain of society that shared our same unorthodox desires. This knowledge was comforting, but wasted on me. Even if I learned how to read the subtle signs of attraction one woman conveyed to another it would do me no good in Baia. At that time there was no indication that I'd ever be allowed to leave the small village. So in desperation I clung to the only woman I thought I would ever be able to have."

"Did she share your affections?" Shanoa asked. Laura mulled over the question for a few moments.

"Natasha cared, but I don't think she was ever in love with me," she said. "Her thrill seemed to lie in eliciting an honest physical response from me. She was always eager to teach me something new and never failed to reap the rewards when I became adept at her various 'skills'. Natasha enjoyed having sex, and she never aspired to conceal that fact. In hindsight I'm grateful she didn't try to string me along emotionally. She was like you in a way: she didn't hide her motives."

"What drove you apart?" Shanoa was keen to know why Natasha was tied up in this dark memory that haunted Laura.

"It was a case of unfortunate timing; a mistake that birthed terrible consequences." The jeweler's face twisted again with that deep-seeded pain. "It was seven months into our relationship and only a couple of weeks after my eighteenth birthday…

_Laura gripped the thick tree branch as it swayed in a strong gust of wind. A fall from this height wouldn't kill her, but it could break a few bones. Once she had regained her balance Laura reached out and knocked on the glass._

_Due to the need to keep their relationship a secret Laura had been forced to design a means of sneaking into the tavern's upstairs room unnoticed. She discovered that the branches of the old oak tree were strong enough to support her weight. The climb was an easy one and allowed her to see Natasha without drawing the attention of questioning eyes; especially those of Petru and his wife._

_Natasha appeared on the other side of the window and wrenched it open. A rustic grating sound pierced through the air as the window frame protested the movement. Once there was enough space for Laura to squeeze through she ducked inside and dropped onto the floor in a graceful crouch._

"_Whenever I come see you I feel like Romeo climbing up the balcony to woo Juliet," Laura said with a cocky grin. Natasha rolled her eyes and held out her hand._

"_You really are a hopeless romantic." The redhead pulled Laura to her feet. "That's going to get you into trouble someday."_

"_I can't help it." Laura dismissed with a shrug. Natasha cast a nervous glance out the window._

"_Were you seen?"_

"_Of course not, I've been sneaking around Baia for years. I used to frighten everyone in the village because I could creep up on them without being noticed." This seemed to alleviate Natasha's concerns and she shot Laura a playful smile._

"_I learn something new about you every visit. You're just full of surprises," she said in a teasing tone. Laura sighed and looked away._

"_Surprises and secrets are two things I have plenty of." They stood in silence for a moment before Laura felt Natasha cradle her face in her hands and the redhead pulled her into a tender kiss._

"_You're not allowed to be sad here, remember?" Natasha whispered when they broke apart._

"_I know." Laura nodded, and decided not to dwell on it. "On a more lighthearted note: it was my birthday recently."_

"_Really?" Natasha's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You should have warned me during my last visit! I would have brought you a present."_

"_No harm done, you can always make it up to me," Laura said with a sly grin as she trailed her fingers across Natasha's stomach._

"_Oh? And just how do you propose I do that?"_

"_Well, to start with, in a few seconds I'm going to rip off all your clothes, pin you against the nearest available surface, and ravish you." Laura pushed Natasha towards the bed. The merchant clicked her tongue._

"_Now how am I supposed to make it up to you when you're the one doing all the work?" she asked. Natasha gasped when Laura gave her a light slap on her behind._

"_Because you're the only person who can give me exactly what I want." The teenager threw Natasha onto the bed before the redhead could offer a saucy retort. She immediately descended on the merchant and claimed her lips in a heated kiss. Natasha moaned as she opened her mouth; her tongue darted out and swirled around Laura's. Natasha tried to take command of the kiss, but she had taught the younger woman well. Laura nipped at the redhead's bottom lip as she began to untie the straps that held the merchant's dress in place._

_Laura felt Natasha's hands slide across her back as she fought with the obstructive clothing. The sensation was distracting and impeded her progress. Laura broke the kiss with a soft cry as an almost violent shudder coursed through her when Natasha lightly trailed her fingers over the younger woman's shoulder blades._

"_It still surprises me when I see how sensitive you are there," Natasha said in a deep, husky voice. Laura grabbed the redhead's arms and pinned them above her head._

"_Don't you know how to behave?" She scowled at the woman beneath her._

"_My parents weren't very effective teachers. I never learned how to play nice." Natasha preened, but gasped when Laura ran her tongue along the pulse point in her neck. "Though you can be a convincing mistress."_

"_Then stop talking and help me get this damn dress off."_

_Natasha nodded and within a matter of seconds had unhooked the offending straps. The teenager grinned and pulled the bodice of the dress down Natasha's torso. Her lips and tongue tasted the pale skin as it was revealed. Natasha squirmed when her chest was exposed to the cool air of the room. Laura's mouth found her right breast and the redhead moaned as Laura's tongue traced circles around her erect nipple. A burning desire swelled within the younger woman when she took the bud into her mouth. The need built inside her gut and throbbed between her legs as Natasha arched her back with a whimper._

_She almost paused when she heard a creak behind her, but Laura was too devoted to the task at hand to pay it much heed._

"_Laura!"_

_Something shattered on the floor and Laura froze; the damning sound rang in her ears. She whirled around to see who had called out her name. Petru's wife stood in the doorway. Laura's stomach knotted as Bianca gaped at the sight of the two women entangled on the bed._

"_Dear God in heaven." Bianca made the sign of the cross as she backed away. Laura pushed herself off of Natasha and started towards the edge of the bed._

"_Bianca, wait-!" She cried out, but the woman fled. The thump of heavy footsteps resounded through the upstairs hall as Bianca dashed down the staircase. "Fuck!" Laura dropped onto the floor. She was surprised when she landed in a puddle of warm water. Laura glanced down and saw the broken remains of a ceramic pot littered across the floor near the open door._

"_Doesn't she know it's polite to knock before she barges her way into a room?" Natasha asked with a growl. "What the hell was she even doing here?"_

"_I think she was going to refill the water basin," Laura said as she stepped around the shattered pieces and closed the door._

"_Unbelievable, some people have no manners at all!" Natasha tried to keep her tone at an even keel, but the notable signs of fear lined her words. Laura leaned her forehead against the door as she assessed the gravity of their situation. Bianca had seen them. Granted, what she had witnessed was fairly tame, but it remained a sexual act between two women. Laura slowly turned to face the redhead._

"_Natasha…" The teenager felt the first inkling of what she knew would grow into abject terror._

"_I know."_

"_What- what do we do?" Laura's bottom lip trembled as she spoke. There was something unsettling about the way Bianca had looked at them. As if she had just seen a great evil. Laura heard the sound of a commotion downstairs and she realized what she needed to do. "You have to go. You have to leave town."_

"_What? Laura-" _

"_We don't have time to argue about it! Petru is always at the bar, and she'd no doubt rush to tell him everything. If anyone else is in the tavern they'll soon learn of it too." Laura started to gather Natasha's things in a wild haste as she spoke. She couldn't name just what it was she was so afraid of, but the sight of the pure shock in Bianca's eyes was seared into her mind. Laura had known the woman almost her entire life, but the way she had looked at the teenager just now made her skin crawl. "We only have a couple of minutes – if that."_

"_Shit!" Natasha pulled her dress up and leapt off the bed. "This was not supposed to happen!"_

"_I'm going to climb out through the window. It'll be best if we don't leave together," Laura said as she finished collecting Natasha's belongings. Luckily the merchant didn't unpack much before Laura arrived. "I'll meet you outside by the oak tree in a minute." Natasha nodded as she hooked the straps of her dress back into place._

"_Laura, I'm so sorry, this is all-" The teenager cut her off with a quick kiss._

"_I know, just go," Laura said and handed Natasha her travel pack._

_Laura managed to tear herself away and ran to the window. The frame groaned again as she opened it. She climbed onto the nearby branch and hastened down the tree as fast as possible. Her palms scraped against the bark as she slid down the side of the trunk, but Laura ignored the stinging pain. She dropped the last couple of feet and landed with a thud on the ground._

_She twitched as she waited for Natasha. Once a minute had passed she began to worry that the merchant had been waylaid during her escape. She breathed a sigh of relief when Natasha rounded the side of the tavern not half a minute later. She ran up to the teenager._

"_Follow me." Laura tugged on the merchant's arm and headed into the nearby woods. Natasha obeyed without a moment's hesitation. "You'll be seen if you leave by one of the main roads. If they know what direction you went someone might go after you," Laura said as they maneuvered through the trees. "There's a creek that runs through the woods just west of here. Once we get there all you'll have to do is follow it downstream until it converges with the southern road. You can figure out where to go from there."_

"_You're not coming with me?" Natasha asked in surprise._

"_No, I'm staying here," Laura said with a slight shake of her head._

"_I can't leave you alone with these people! You didn't see the way they looked at me when I crossed through the tavern!" The redhead's fear began to break through her calm exterior. "If you stay behind-"_

"_They can't hurt me. They wouldn't dare."_

"_Laura, you don't know-"_

"_I __**do**__ know." The teenager tried to ignore the entreaty in the older woman's voice._

"_No, you don't!" Natasha grabbed her arm and forced Laura to turn around. She gasped when she saw the raw terror that burned in the redhead's eyes. This was the first time she had ever seen Natasha afraid of anything. "Fear is a volatile thing. When people witness something they don't understand their first reaction is one of fear. What that woman saw us doing… we are an anomaly to her."_

"_What are you trying to say?" Laura's brow furrowed as she attempted to shut out the memory of Bianca's terrified expression._

"_Society despises people like us. You're too young to have seen the persecution with your own eyes, but I have." There was a tremor in Natasha's voice as she spoke. "The things they do if we're discovered... they put us in chains, Laura. They torture us. They kill us. Men of God despise our ilk and we're cast among the damned. There's no limit to the atrocities that people can inflict upon you, and now they have a reason to justify all of their wickedness."_

"_They can't harm me," Laura said in a steady – almost calm – voice. "The people of this village fear the wrath of my parents and the power they wield more than anything they think they see in me. You don't have that shield, and that's why you need to leave." The teenager turned around before Natasha could object. They walked the rest of the way to the stream in silence, but when they reached the bank of the creek Natasha attempted one last plea._

"_Laura, please come with me." The younger woman cringed as something snapped inside her._

"_I can't," she said in a whisper, "despite how much I might want to."_

"_Why? What's holding you back?"_

_Laura yearned to go with her. She wanted to run away and never return to Baia. She could leave it all behind and live a life that she carved out for herself. She could be free._

"_My family is bound to an ancient oath." Laura hung her head, unable to look Natasha in the eyes. "If I run away there will be no one left to uphold it." A long beat of silence passed between them._

"_Is it worth the sacrifice?" the merchant asked._

"_I don't have the luxury of a choice." Laura's voice cracked as she intoned the defeating phrase. She felt Natasha's hands cradle her face, she felt the redhead press her lips against her own, and she felt her heart shatter at the realization that this would be their last kiss._

"_I can never come back here." Natasha's tone was overcome with sorrow._

"_I know." Laura heard herself respond. The merchant collected herself and looked Laura in the eyes. The younger woman met her gaze and her breath hitched at the surprising conviction that shone in Natasha's blue irises._

"_Regardless of what happens next, I want you to remember this: they don't have the power to take your soul."_

_And then she was gone. Natasha turned and walked away. Laura didn't cry as she watched her follow the creek downstream. She was stronger than that. She was…_

_Laura hiked back to Baia in a daze, but she had enough sense to travel around the town's perimeter to avoid meeting anyone on her way home. The news had already begun to spread and there would be no stopping whatever came next. Laura slipped through the back door of her house and went straight to her room. Once inside she locked the door behind her. She took a deep breath and pressed her back against the wall._

_She would not cry._

_Laura slid down to the floor and brought her knees up to her chest. She hugged her legs as a shudder reverberated through her._

_She would not cry._

Laura cried. She sobbed as she trembled in Shanoa's arms. The warrior held her close as Laura cried the tears her younger self had refused to shed.

"It's all right," Shanoa said as the jeweler clung to her. "It's all right."

"I can't, Shanoa." She gasped and shook her head. "I can't tell you what happens next. I can't tell anyone."

"This pain has festered inside of you for years. It's been growing, seeping into your soul, and it'll continue to spread its poison, but only as long as you allow it to." Shanoa's tone bespoke unwavering confidence. She knew this brand of pain, and she knew that it was not eternal. "You can put a stop to its influence right now, Laura. Together we'll kill this monster."

"Why do you fight for me?" Laura's eyes glistened with bewilderment.

"Because I love you." There it was. A simple, honest declaration, but it changed everything. "And I fight through Hell and back for the people I love." The look that Laura gave her made the warrior's heart swell with pride. Shanoa would fight for this woman with the same fervent passion that Laura had shown when she in turn fought to save the warrior's soul.

"I… did cry, back then," Laura said, "but not until after I had been completely broken…

_Laura did not have to wait long before she heard people gather outside the house. The young woman felt an invisible noose tighten around her neck as the repercussions of Bianca's discovery drew closer to fruition. These people had come for her. Laura could not say what it was they intended to do with her, but she doubted it was anything pleasant._

_She heard the front door swing open and the clatter of footsteps as people entered the living room. The group didn't get far before something put a stop to their advance. Laura crawled over to the left wall and pressed her ear against the plywood._

"_Good afternoon, Abel." The voice was muffled (but audible) through the wall._

"_Father Matthew," Laura's father responded in turn. "What is the meaning of this?"_

"_Forgive our intrusion, but Laura needs to come with us." Her heart sank at the priest's words._

"_You barge into my home uninvited and then order me to hand over my daughter?" Abel's tone held a dangerous warning. "For a man of the cloth you sure have some gall. I'll give you one chance to explain yourself, and for your sake I hope it's a damn good reason."_

"_Peace, Abel, we come with pure intentions," Father Matthew said. "We're not here to hurt Laura; we want to help save her."_

"_Save her from what?"_

"_Laura has a demon inside of her, but through God's divine grace we can purge the vile spirit from her body," the priest said in a tone that was eerily calm._

"_What the hell are you talking about?"_

"_Your daughter is possessed, Abel." There was a pause as the magnitude of Father Matthew's accusation hung in the air._

"_Why do you think she's possessed?" her father asked._

"_Bianca, tell him what you saw." The teenager heard something shuffle on the far side of the living room._

"_Laura was fornicating with that merchant woman." She had to strain to hear Bianca's voice. "I found them in the upstairs room of our tavern. It was… unholy."_

"_We're not upset with your daughter," Father Matthew said. "She was obviously bewitched by this woman. I doubt that Laura was even aware of what she was doing. However, since we can't find the merchant and force her to release her hold on Laura we must resort to other means. As a God-fearing man I cannot stand idly by whilst a member of my flock is tainted with demonic lust."_

_Laura's stomach twisted into a knot as the voices dropped to a low murmur. She could no longer discern what they said. The teenager waited with bated breath as they discussed her fate. For a moment she contemplated attempting to escape, but that opportunity had passed. She'd refused to flee with Natasha. Now there was nowhere left for her to go but into the clutches of the awaiting villagers. Laura heard footsteps in the hallway outside her room before there was a heavy knock on her door._

"_Laura, open up," her father said in a gruff voice. Laura's body moved against her will, as if she had been entranced by the hopelessness of her situation. She rose to her feet and complied with his demand. He looked down at her with a grim expression on his face, but she could not look him in the eyes._

"_Don't make me go out there." She allowed herself a brief moment to hope that he would acquiesce to her plea._

"_You brought this upon yourself," he said in a tone devoid of conflict. Laura's mouth moved wordlessly before she hung her head in defeat. She could not argue with a brick wall. He stepped aside as she exited her bedroom and plodded slowly down the hall. Her mother stood at the bottom of the staircase, but the woman made no move to intervene on her daughter's behalf. The knot in Laura's stomach grew even tighter as she realized that her parents had conceded to throw her to the wolves without a fight._

_A small crowd waited for her in the living room. Father Matthew stood at the forefront of the group and smiled at Laura when she caught his eye. She glanced past him, out the open door, and noted that even more people had gathered in the street. Almost every adult in the village was present; people she had known nearly her entire life. Some sneered at her in disgust, others looked on in concern, but a few wore unreadable expressions. Laura gulped, but she held her head high. If she could not escape them then she could at least defy them._

'_I want you to remember this: they don't have the power to take your soul.'_

"_Come here, my child." Father Matthew held out his hands as he beckoned to her. Under normal circumstances the old priest had kindly features, but there had been a significant shift. His face appeared rotten and bloated, and Laura recoiled in disgust._

"_No." She shook her head._

"_Laura…" Her father sounded exasperated, but she ignored him._

"_I did nothing wrong," the teenager said._

"_We're not upset with you, Laura. Your soul has been infested by an evil spirit. We've come together as a community to help free you from this demon's clutches." The priest's words may have swayed her father, but they would not sway her._

"_There isn't a demon inside me!" Laura set her expression into one of defiance. "I haven't been bewitched or hexed or possessed! Everything I did with Natasha I did of my own free will. I did it because I love her." She knew it was dangerous to make such claims, but these people already knew her secret. Declaring her love would not change her fate. Father Matthew shook his head._

"_Those aren't your own words. It's the demon's influence-"_

"_There is no demon!" Laura's lips curved into a snarl as her anger got the better of her. "What demon speaks of love? What demon can even conceive of it? There is no evil in love! I've done nothing wrong!" She insisted upon her innocence, but she saw the words fall on deaf ears. Father Matthew took a deep breath._

"_The demon's hold on you is more powerful than I anticipated." He glared at her with a wicked intent in his eyes before he turned to address the crowd. "We'll take her to the chapel. The battle will be weighed in our favor if fought on holy ground." At the priest's words Petru and Trevor stepped out of the throng of onlookers and marched towards Laura. They moved to grab her arms, but she reeled away from them._

"_Don't you dare touch me!"_

"_We'll drag you if we have to," Trevor said. Laura was tall, and she possessed a fair amount of strength, but the two men could overpower her if they worked in tandem. Still, she would not go without a fight._

"_I'm not going anywhere with you!" she said with an indignant sneer. Trevor sighed._

"_So be it." Before she could react the two men seized her upper arms and pulled her bodily towards the front door. She struggled and thrashed in their grip in an attempt to break free._

"_Let me go!" Laura screamed and twisted around to look back at her parents. "Tell them to let me go!" They remained where they were. Her mother clutched something to her chest – her lips formed indistinguishable words – and her father's face belayed an unreadable mask. They made no effort to help her. They simply watched as Laura was dragged away._

_The crowd parted to let them through. Father Matthew led a solemn procession through the streets of Baia as they headed in the direction of the chapel. Laura dug her heels into the ground, stumbled, and jerked her body in futile attempts to break free or slow their progress. Trevor and Petru managed to thwart her every effort. The voices of the crowd rose in a loud clamor behind her and Laura realized that the villagers had begun to pray in disjointed Latin._

_The town chapel was a small construct of lumber and brick, but it loomed over Laura as imposing as the gates of Hell. Father Matthew threw open the double doors and her captors hauled the teenager up the carpeted isle before they stopped at the foot of the altar. They forced Laura to her knees as the aging priest hovered before her. In her peripheral vision Laura saw the crowd cluster around the quartet; the sound of their Latin prayers had grown louder in the enclosed space. Laura glared up at Father Matthew and he regarded her with a stern gaze._

"_I did nothing wrong." Her continued insistence seemed to irritate him._

"_You have lain with another woman," he said. Laura's mouth curved upwards in a defiant grin._

"_Yes, and I would gladly do so again."_

_Something broke behind Father Matthew's eyes and he slapped Laura hard across her face. Her head spun from the blow, but before she could recover the priest grabbed her jaw and forced Laura to look at him. There was a cruel fire in his eyes unlike anything she had ever seen before, and the sheer intensity of it chilled the young woman to her core._

"_I see you, demon!" His booming voice reverberated off the walls of the chapel. "I have heard your vile words and born witness to the wicked desire that you have instilled in this young girl! But I will not let you win!" Father Matthew made the sign of the cross. "Through the grace of God I will cast you out!"_

_The voices of the crowd grew louder; the villagers fueled by his powerful words. The Latin prayers took on a demonic air as they prayed out of sync with each other. Laura tried to struggle again, but Petru and Trevor held her fast. They stretched Laura's arms out to both sides as Father Matthew turned away and retrieved a pitcher from the altar. He muttered something under his breath before he brandished the pewter vessel in front of the young woman._

"_Within this pitcher lies your undoing, demon. It contains holy water; blessed by God himself. With this I shall cleanse the body of this girl, wash away your evil, and send you back to Hell and damnation!" The priest pulled a long, thin oak branch out of the water. A cluster of leaves still sprouted from one end and they dripped with a coating of holy water. Father Matthew allowed Laura to study it for a moment before he pulled his hand back and whipped the branch across her cheek. She yelped when the branch struck her. The water had grown cold and she shivered as droplets ran down her face, neck, and over her chest. "What do they call you, demon?"_

"_There is no demon," Laura said. The priest frowned and snapped the branch across her other cheek._

"_What do they call you?"_

"_You know my name. It's Laura. It's always been Laura." Her voice trembled as she shook with rage._

"_Do not toy with me, demon! I will have none of it! What do they call you?"_

"_MY NAME IS LAURA!" She screamed in endless frustration. "I AM NOT POSSESSED! THERE IS NO DEMON!"_

_The prayers grew louder at her fervent insistence. Father Matthew whipped her again – harder this time – and Laura hissed as she felt her cheek slice open. A thin stream of blood trickled out of the wound and intermixed with the cold water._

"_I see you for what you are." The priest leaned in; his face so close to Laura's that she could smell his rancid breath. "You're a demon of lust. You have led one of my children astray with sinful desires, and I will purify her soul of your taint." He dipped the branch in the pitcher, withdrew the newly soaked leaves, and snapped it across her undamaged cheek. "With the aide of Jesus Christ I cast you out."_

"_There is no demon," Laura whispered, but Father Matthew's voice grew in a crescendo as he called upon heaven itself to strike her down._

"_With the aide of Michael the Archangel I cast you out." He punctuated each command with a smack from the oak branch._

"_There is no demon."_

"_With the aide of God the Father I cast you out." His words burrowed into every recess of her soul and Laura felt herself slip._

"_There is no demon."_

"_With the aide of divine grace I cast you-"_

"_THERE IS NO DEMON!" Laura was unable to contain herself any longer. She thrashed against her captors and bared her teeth at this man who slandered her in the name of God. "NOT IN ME! YOU'RE THE ONLY DEMON HERE!"_

"_Hold her head back," Father Matthew said. Laura felt someone grab ahold of her hair and wrenched her head backwards. Once she was properly restrained the priest poured the contents of the pitcher over her face. Laura sputtered and tried to turn away, but the men held her in place even as water flowed into her nostrils and down her throat. She choked and gasped for air as the liquid entered her lungs. Once the pitcher was emptied the hand in her hair released its grip. Laura flung her head forward and she spit up frigid water as she sagged before the altar._

"_In the name of Jesus Christ I cast you out!" Father Matthew's voice roared above her. Her ears pounded with the disjointed Latin prayers of the crowd and a chill ran through her when someone began to cry out in Tongues. Laura gasped for precious air, but she could still feel the water in her lungs. "In the name of God the Father I cast you out!"_

_She was powerless, and no one would come to her rescue. This crowd comprised of people she had known her entire life believed that she was an evil entity. Her parents had not dared to intervene. She was not even worth that effort from them. And Natasha, she was… a sob passed Laura's lips as the full weight of what she had lost crashed down upon her. _

_She couldn't love. Her love carried too grave a price. She would never have anyone, and if by some chance she did –_

"_In the name of Jesus Christ I cast you out!"_

_Laura broke._

_A wail escaped her. It was the ugliest sound she'd ever heard. A cry wrenched forth from some unknown depths of her heart that she never dared to venture into. At last – on the echoes of that horrid sound – she cried. Her entire body shook as tears streamed down her face. They merged with the droplets of holy water and the trickle of blood. Laura tasted the bitter concoction on her tongue._

_The hands at last released her and she collapsed to the floor; a sorry heap of sobbing flesh._

'_God… if you can hear me, make it stop.' Laura clasped her hands together in a silent prayer as she cried. It was futile to plead to God. He was nowhere to be found in this chapel. She doubted that even His divine presence could penetrate the vile hatred that surrounded her, but still she prayed. 'Just make them stop.'_

_Something was coaxed into her hands and Laura instinctively wrapped her fingers around it. She clutched the object to her chest before she realized what it was. Someone had given her a metal crucifix. _

'_I doubt you can hear me.' Laura raised the cross to her lips and kissed it. 'But if you can… please make them stop.'_

"_Laura?" She heard Father Matthew's voice rise over the din of her thoughts. He spoke in a kinder tone, but she could detect a harsh edge behind it. "Is that you?"_

"_Yes." She managed to say the word through her sobs._

"_You clasp a crucifix in your hands. No demon could abide to touch such a holy relic. We've cast it out, my child." She winced as he rested a hand upon her shoulder. "The demon has been vanquished."_

_Laura heard the triumphant cries of the crowd, but they faded from her awareness. There was naught but a single truth. The ugliest truth she had ever faced._

_There was never a demon inside of her. Every trait that Father Matthew had condemned about the nonexistent demon he had truly said about her. That she was evil. That she was damned. That she was a wicked being of unnatural lust. There was a hollow ring inside of her as Laura understood that she was comprised of everything these so-called "good men" sought to destroy._

_And there was nothing she could do to change it._

So Laura cried.

For years she had borne the weight of this trauma in silence, but now the cacophony of emotions poured out of her in a flood. Shanoa held Laura as she cried; the warrior a fixture of calm in the violent storm. It was all that she could give, but far from everything that Laura deserved. After a while Laura's sorrow began to subside. Shanoa reached up and began to wipe away the jeweler's tears with her free hand.

"Thank you for trusting me with this pain," she said in a comforting voice as the jeweler leaned into her hand.

"Natasha was right. They couldn't take my soul, but they could take everything else."

"The only thing those people took was the name of God in vain," Shanoa said with a slight shake of her head.

"I've never felt as broken as I did in front of that altar." Laura's voice cracked. "I've never felt so defeated." Shanoa smiled and cupped the jeweler's cheek.

"But you did something that most people lack the strength to even attempt: you fought back. A part of you may have believed them, but you continued to reject their lies. You knew that the mob was wrong, and you challenged them every step of the way. Remember when I said that you wage battles to save people's souls?" Shanoa wiped away another stray tear with her thumb. "That includes your own; even if you don't know it."

The vulnerability in Laura's eyes wavered and she leaned forward and kissed Shanoa. It was soft and tender, but the warrior felt Laura shiver. When the jeweler pulled away she stared into Shanoa's eyes.

"Did you mean what you said? Do you really love me?" Laura asked in disbelief. Shanoa allowed all of her pent up feelings for the woman in her arms to play across her face.

"Yes." It was all she could manage to say, but it was more than enough.

"And I love you." Laura almost sobbed the confession. "I love you so much, but I was convinced that I could never love anyone. Yet three years ago I dared to glimpse my future. I consulted the cards and they told me to leave Baia. They guided me to seek out Wygol where they foretold I would do great things, and that I'd…" Her mouth moved silently for a moment before the words tumbled from her lips. "That I'd find my soul mate." A blush erupted on Laura's face, but she continued before Shanoa could respond.

"I couldn't ignore the reading. After all that had transpired – after years seeped in silent fear – I was given a faint glimmer of hope that perhaps I would find someone who didn't see my love as a vile thing. So I obeyed. I left one isolated village for another, smaller one. After I arrived in Wygol I began to wait. I waited for so long that I thought the cards had lied to me. Until I met you, a kindred soul, and I started to entertain the impossible."

"You think that I'm your… soul mate?" Shanoa's heart pounded in her chest.

"The cards chose the words, though I understand the weight that they carry." Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. "Don't start thinking that's the reason I fell for you, though. The reading had no influence over the development of my feelings."

"I know. You fell for my blunt sincerity, right?" Shanoa asked with a teasing smile.

"Among other things." Laura gave the warrior a small smile of her own.

Shanoa knew it would take time to process everything that Laura had told her, but one truth had been made quite evident. The fear, isolation, grief, and betrayal that Laura had suffered were all too familiar to the warrior. Somehow this woman had given Shanoa strength in her time of need while the same demons still haunted Laura's own soul. The jeweler had given so much without expecting to receive what she needed in return, but now Shanoa could begin to pay her back in kind.

"You're not alone anymore," Shanoa said as her thumb stroked Laura's cheek. "You don't have to face these memories on your own, because now we'll fight them together. I know it must be terrifying to trust me since so many people have failed you in the past. People who were supposed to protect and support you, but know this." Her blue eyes shone with determination. "_I_ will not fail you.

"We face such similar demons, Laura, but their grip is not eternal. We will cast them off." Shanoa beamed. "When we couple the strength of your conviction with the might of my blades there's nothing in this world or beyond that can stop us."

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> there were many small alterations to this chapter that made a big difference to the impact carried by certain scenes. The most notable addition was Laura calling Father Matthew a demon. That line was not present in the original version, but it adds a new level of intensity to an already powerful scene.

The merchant's name was "Natalia" in the original version, but I changed it to "Natasha" as the former is too similar to the name of a major character in later chapters.

This chapter touches on a lot of personal issues for me and its conception took me by surprise. I did not expect to write anything like this way back when I started the first draft, but as the story progressed and these characters developed the events of this chapter formed of their own volition. Laura, for example, was not originally supposed to be gay, but once I began to actually write this story I realized I was wrong.

While this fic has always served experimental purposes it has also allowed me to express in words – for the first time – certain experiences I'm reluctant to revisit. The exorcism scene was one of the most difficult things I've ever written because it's almost verbatim a recreation of the ritual that was performed on me. It's disappointing that even in "progressive" countries you'll find people who subscribe to the belief that being gay (or trans, etc.) is unnatural or something that can be "fixed".

That said, my intention with the exorcism scene was not to make a negative remark on Christianity/God/organized religion and so forth. Rather my aim was to illustrate ignorance and how some people will bastardize the name of their own faith to justify their ill intentions.


	16. Scarlet Affinity

**Author's note:** there's been quite a bit of content added to this chapter. It was originally intended to include a few scenes from Laura's perspective, but due to a time constraint I never got around to writing anything other than the final scene for the first draft. That problem has been rectified in this version.

* * *

><p>Chapter Sixteen<p>

_Scarlet Affinity_

There were two separate occasions where Laura feared she had been discovered.

The first, surprisingly, was noted by Shanoa herself; the second by a much more predictable culprit.

IXI

Shanoa had stayed true to her word and escorted the jeweler safely back to Wygol. Laura was surprised, however, when the solemn warrior did not seek to part upon their arrival. Instead she was intent to follow Laura to her shop. The jeweler did not expect the other woman to interpret her request to be "escorted home" in the most literal sense. Still, Laura would not refuse the company; especially when the companion in question was an intriguing, beautiful woman.

But it would be best for her to ignore the warrior's beauty altogether.

Laura was relieved to find her store intact. She did not know how long she had been trapped in that crystalline prison. The last thing she needed was to return to a ransacked and looted shop. Brutus was nowhere to be found, but Laura knew that the white cat could fend for himself. He would show up soon enough.

Shanoa stood in the doorway and watched Laura as she made a quick scan of her inventory. Every so often the jeweler's eyes would cut to the exotic warrior. There was something missing in her stoic expression; a hollow sheen in her blue eyes that echoed of a familiar emptiness. Shanoa had not said much during their return trip, and the mystery that surrounded the warrior sparked Laura's curiosity.

"Thank you for keeping me safe out there," Laura said after a long silence. "I don't know how I would have fared against those monsters all by myself."

"Not well, I'd imagine," Shanoa said in a dry tone. A small smile touched the jeweler's lips.

_She's honest, I'll give her that._

"You use a strange type of magic. I've never seen anything like it." Normally she was not one to pry, but the warrior had implied that she knew the man who kidnapped her. Laura's parents had been thorough in covering their tracks. Only a handful of people knew that she was a Belmont, but her father always impressed upon her the possibility that she could be discovered regardless. Shanoa appeared unaware of the jeweler's heritage, but Laura could not say the same for her kidnapper.

"I'm told it's a secret art." Shanoa gave the vaguest of explanations. The jeweler realized she'd need to be more direct if she wanted to get any information out of the other woman.

"By whom?" Laura asked.

"My master."

"So your master taught you how to use this magic?"

"Perhaps, though I cannot say for certain." There was an eerie, even timber to Shanoa's voice. Not once did it fluctuate with emotion or in volume.

"Why not?"

"My memories were taken from me." A hint of despair ghosted in the warrior's eyes, but it did not reflect in her tone. "My master re-kindled my knowledge, but I can't recall who it was that first taught me the art."

"How can someone's memories be taken from them?" Laura asked. Shanoa sighed and moved towards the door.

"You were missing for an indeterminate amount of time, and no doubt have things to attend to." She excused herself from the conversation while blatantly dodging Laura's question. "I should leave you to them."

"Wait! I want to repay you for rescuing me." The warrior halted at Laura's insistence.

"It is not needed." Shanoa turned to face her again.

"I beg to differ. At the very least I can offer some solid advice in regards to your appearance," the jeweler said. Shanoa glanced down at herself.

"My appearance is acceptable."

"Well, attractiveness can only get you so far. Take your outfit, for example, you dress like you're in mourning." The words absent-mindedly flowed from Laura's lips. "Waste of a finely shaped-"

"Enough of that, thank you."

_Shit._

"Sorry, I didn't mean-" The jeweler took a moment to reign in her response. "Let me start over. The last thing I want to do is offend a new acquaintance." She internally chastised herself for letting the flirtation slip past her. It had been years since the incident with Natasha and Laura still didn't know how to hide her "oddity".

_Excellent job, Laura, next time why don't you just outright proposition the woman?_

"You'd be hard-pressed to offend me."

"I don't wish to test my luck." Laura winced. "My point is a little accessorizing would go a long way."

"Accessorizing?"

"Yes, the right jewelry can make all the difference between a drab appearance and a stunning one." Laura tried to mask the source of her previous remark. Though she wondered if the warrior had even recognized the compliment for what it was or simply did not wish to discuss her appearance.

"I do not need to impress my foes with beauty," Shanoa said, and Laura was inclined to believe the latter of her assumptions.

"Fair enough, but the gemstones I work with are more than hunks of mineral. They all carry latent magical properties that – when cut correctly – can imbue a piece of jewelry with an enchantment." Laura decided to go in for the hard sell. "I can craft you jewelry that is both dazzling to the eye and a boon in combat."

"Interesting." There was a flicker of emotion behind the warrior's eyes, but her tone held its even keel. "Where do you find these gemstones?"

"I usually procure them from the traveling merchants, but ever since the countryside was beset by this sudden infestation of monsters they've cut down on their visits. We've had just one or two visitors in the past few months. As such I'm running low on supplies, but I can look through what I have and see if there's anything I can make for you." Laura smiled. "For free, of course. I _am_ trying to repay you." The warrior considered her proposal for a moment.

"There is another option," Shanoa said. "I collect a variety of objects throughout my travels. Often spoils from battle that appear to be of some use. On occasion I come across gemstones. I have no need of them, but perhaps from now on I could give them to you instead. It would be detrimental to let resources go to waste."

"Well, how can I refuse such a kind offer?" Laura's heart fluttered at the prospect of receiving regular visits from the beautiful warrior. "From now on, whenever you find a gemstone, bring it to me. I'll show you just how versatile jewelry can be."

IXI

Marcel wandered into the jeweler's line of vision as Monica began to gush to Timothy about Shanoa's endless generosity. The journalist tilted his head towards an empty corner of the square. His intent was clear, and Laura conceded that she could spare a few moments. Shanoa's interactions with the villagers that evening proved the warrior was feeling more at-ease than the jeweler had ever seen before. Laura quietly excused herself from the conversation and walked over to join Marcel. She passed George on the way, but he was too absorbed in tuning his violin to acknowledge her.

The journalist's gaze lingered on Shanoa as he waited for Laura. He removed the cigarette from his mouth and exhaled a puff of white smoke that momentarily obscured his face. Laura waved away the smoke with her hand as she came to a stop in front of him.

"Is there something on your mind, Marcel?"

"I see our beloved vampire slayer has made a significant recovery," he said in a low voice. Laura glanced behind her at the warrior. Shanoa appeared relaxed, almost content. A small smile played across the warrior's face as Monica raved about her various deeds. Laura was ecstatic to see the change in her friend's demeanor, but she knew better than to assume that Marcel had voiced his observation without an ulterior motive.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said. Marcel chuckled and took another draw from his cigarette.

"Why is that? I may be a scoundrel, but that doesn't mean I'm unable to enjoy a good show."

"You never struck me as the type to enjoy the theater." Laura frowned at him. His lips twisted upwards in a mischievous smirk.

"Well now, I never specified _which_ show I was interested in." Marcel winked. "It's an entertaining spectacle, to say the least, and helps explain your callous behavior towards me."

"Whatever do you mean?" the jeweler asked, though her stomach sank at the self-righteous glint in Marcel's eyes. He knew.

"Go ahead and play coy, if you wish." His smirk widened. "Though I do understand your affections. The woman has a bewitching air about her. The rest of the village has fallen head over heels for her, so why should you be the exception?" Laura narrowed her eyes at him.

"If you're trying to blackmail me-"

"I am not the villainous sort," he assured her. "Beautiful women are free to pine after whomever they wish; even if the other party happens to be another beautiful woman."

"So why bring it up?"

"Some might say it colors the motives behind your recent bout of generosity." Marcel had barely finished his explanation when Laura cut in.

"My actions are not dictated by my physical desires," she said. "Shanoa sought my help as a friend."

"And do you want to be her friend?" Marcel asked. Her nostrils flared at his implication.

"I _am_ her friend."

"Time will tell, I suppose." The journalist shrugged. He exhaled another puff of white smoke and took his leave. Laura glowered at Marcel as he sauntered away. The man had no idea how to mind his own business.

IXI

_Laura and Shanoa lounged on the grass in the middle of the clearing as they looked up at the clear blue sky. The air was unseasonably warm and the jeweler felt a few beads of sweat cling to the back of her neck. For some odd reason they were both wearing formal dresses. Laura's was a simplistic dress of scarlet fabric while Shanoa, contrary to her usual attire, was donned in an elegant white gown. The skirt of the dress was long and flowing; the bodice comprised of a complex series of straps and bows. The ribbons of white crisscrossed over Shanoa's abdomen and up her back. Laura batted Shanoa's hand as the warrior fussed with one of the straps on the front of her dress._

"_Don't pull on it!" the jeweler said. _

"_I can't help myself! This dress is so itchy." Shanoa grimaced._

"_That dress is made of cashmere. How could it possibly be itchy?" Laura asked. The warrior rolled her eyes._

"_Fine, it's not the material but the straps that are itchy. I still can't believe I let you talk me into wearing this thing," Shanoa said under her breath. The gown's effect was rather compelling, but the warrior lacked her lover's appreciation for fashion._

"_You can fuss all you want, but you still look stunning," Laura said with a smile. Shanoa's eyes grew wide and she turned towards Laura with an adorable look of surprise on her face._

"_Do you mean that?"_

"_You're the only woman who can do that dress justice." A broad statement, but as far as Laura was concerned it was true. Shanoa smiled and glanced down at herself with an expression that appeared to be one of approval._

"_Thank you, but white isn't practical for outdoor excursions. Why did you choose this color for me, anyway?"_

"_I guess…" Laura contemplated what to say. When had she chosen the gown? She couldn't remember. "Because they say white is the color of virgins. It implies innocence." Shanoa didn't seem taken aback by the comment. She didn't display much of a reaction at all. The warrior's eyes cut to Laura's simplistic dress._

"_And why did you choose scarlet?" she asked. The jeweler's heart skipped a beat as the answer to that question dawned on her._

"_Because I'm…" She hesitated to say it out loud. The sunlight faded as clouds appeared in the sky above them. Laura looked up at the shifting masses. The clouds were a creamy white hue at first, but as they reached out to cover the sun they became ominous shades of dark gray and green._

_Why had she chosen scarlet?_

"_I'm not-" Laura was interrupted by a startled cry as the ground quaked beneath them. The women leapt to their feet, but they were thrown backwards as a deep fissure split into the earth and separated them on either side of the chasm. A thick wall of glass erupted from its depths and towered high above them. _

'_What the-?'_

_Once she had regained her footing the jeweler ran forward and pounded on the glass. Shanoa's eyes darted about the clearing in shock and confusion._

"_What's going on?" The warrior's voice was muffled through the glass. Laura tried to tell her to use her Glyphs to break the barrier, but Shanoa gasped as she caught sight of something behind the jeweler. "Laura!"_

_Rough hands grabbed the jeweler and wrenched her away from the wall. Laura struggled as she was hauled backwards, but her strength was no match against her unseen captors. She opened her mouth in an attempt to scream and a rag was shoved down her throat. Laura choked on the gag. The cloth had been steeped in foul smelling, greasy oil. The scent permeated her nostrils and Laura fought down the bile that rose in her throat in response to the disgusting taste of oil on her tongue._

"_A woman over a girl any day." A grating voice teased as her captors forced the jeweler to the ground. Laura was knocked onto her back and she recoiled at the sight of the dead bandits. Something or someone had reanimated their corpses and the vile quartet gathered around her. Their pallid flesh showed signs of decay and the blood caked on their faces had turned black with age. The bandits' eyes had been clawed or pecked out by crows and other scavengers. The empty sockets were focused on Laura, and though the red pits lacked irises or pupils they burrowed into her as sharp as any wicked glare._

"_A woman over a girl any day," the bandit leader said. Laura could not even remember his name. His words were interrupted by gobs of black congealed blood that oozed out of the hole in his throat._

_The bandits clawed at her. Laura tried to struggle as they tore her dress to shreds, but an invisible force kept her pinned to the forest floor. She heard something shatter and Laura turned her head to see what it was. Shanoa summoned her Glyphs in rapid succession as she tried to breach the glass wall. The warrior called upon one incantation after another, but each time a weapon collided with the glass it shattered into a thousand pieces._

"_Let her go!" Shanoa screamed as she pounded in vain against the barricade. The bandits paused when they heard the warrior's voice and turned their collective attention towards her._

"_You're not, but she is." The bandits paused to cackle in unison. Laura watched in horror as their fingers grew to a disgusting length before they morphed into iron pikes. The dead men twiddled their hands in delight; the spears groaned with a rustic sound. They stalked towards Shanoa. "Never touched by a prick, never touched by a prodding thing." They chanted as one._

"_Don't touch her!" Laura's words were muffled by the gag. "Don't you dare touch her!"_

"_Never touched by a prick, never touched by a wandering hand." The bandits' voices pierced through the air. "You're not, but she is."_

"_What am I?" Shanoa's voice wavered with uncertainty. She looked down at herself, dressed in a pristine white gown. "What am I?" A thick black fog rose up around the clearing, but the warrior was too preoccupied with the question to notice._

"_Tell her, my child." Laura's head whirled in the direction of Father Matthew's voice. The priest stood over the naked woman. His skin chipped away with orange rust and maggots oozed out of the corners of his mouth as he grinned at her. Laura shook her head._

_No._

_The black fog crept closer. Forms shifted in the inky darkness. Laura could see skeletal silhouettes lumber towards her through the haze. She saw their organs birthed from the void. Intestines, lungs, kidneys, and various slimy masses slithered up the bones until they at last settled into their proper place, but the void did not produce a single heart. As the skeletons drew closer the tide of maggots that dripped from Father Matthew's mouth became thicker._

"_She can't ever be yours, my child." His voice held a musical timber. "You sully everything you touch."_

"_Never touched by a prick, never touched by a lustful hand." The bandits continued to chant as the skeletons grew twining muscle, sinew, and flesh. Laura pulled once more against her invisible bonds, but it was no use._

"_Scarlet for your tainted flesh." The skeletal mob recited. They stumbled over their words as their tongues had not yet finished forming._

"_You can't ever touch her." Father Matthew clicked his tongue as he chided the captive woman. The sound reverberated as loud as a gunshot. The flesh at last settled against the skulls of the lumbering mob and Laura recognized the faces of Baia's residents._

"_Laura!" The jeweler's eyes cut back to Shanoa as she screamed her name. The bandits had reached the wall and bounded through the glass without resistance. They tackled Shanoa to the ground and overpowered the warrior before she had the chance to summon her Glyphs. Laura screamed in protest, but the damn gag muffled the noise. Two bandits grabbed Shanoa's limbs and held her down while the others gathered around the warrior. Their iron pikes wriggled in anticipation._

"_Never touched by a prick, never touched by your tainted flesh."_

"_We'll spare her the bite of your touch," Father Matthew said in a cheerful voice._

_Laura surged against her bonds as the bandits plunged their pikes into Shanoa's gut and chest. She thrashed as the warrior shrieked in agony, but the bandits continued to rip her lover's flesh open. They drove their pikes into Shanoa over and over again. The warrior's screams were accompanied by the combined chanting of the bandits and the surrounding mob._

"_Scarlet for your tainted flesh."_

"_Never touched by a prick, never touched by an ice pick!"_

"_Laura!" Shanoa shrieked her name. A desperate cry as the pikes drove into her. "Laura!"_

"_STOP!" _Laura screamed at the top of her lungs as she lurched forward. "STOP!"

"Laura! Laura, wake up!" The jeweler felt a hand on her shoulder, but she pulled away. There was nothing on Earth that could restrain her. She had to stop the bandits! She had to save- "Laura!" Strong arms circled her waist and Laura was pulled back against a solid body. "Please wake up!"

_That voice…_

"Wake up."

The jeweler shook her head and her eyelids slid open. Her vision had difficulty focusing in the dim light provided by the dying embers of the campfire. The tension in her muscles slowly relaxed as Laura realized where she was.

"Shanoa?" Her voice cracked, and the arms around her waist tightened.

"I'm right here," the warrior said in a soothing tone.

"I was dreaming." Laura sagged against Shanoa. Tears fell from her eyes and she shuddered at the memory of the nightmare. "Oh God, I thought-" Laura choked on a sob before she could finish. Shanoa pressed her lips to Laura's shoulder.

"It's over now. You're safe."

"There was a black fog, and I thought that you…" Laura couldn't say it out loud. The idea was too awful for her to even bear thinking about. She was filled with the sudden urge to see Shanoa's face. She needed to confirm that the warrior was all right; that she was alive. Laura turned around in Shanoa's arms, but there wasn't enough light for her to make out the other woman's features in the darkness. "Please, I need to see your face."

Shanoa pulled her left arm away from the jeweler's waist and after a moment there was a flash as a ball of swirling light appeared in Shanoa's open palm. Laura's fears melted away as she beheld the warrior. Shanoa seemed to glow in the white light, but her face was furrowed in concern. Laura winced as she recalled how the bandits had stabbed their metal pikes into –

"Laura?" Shanoa asked as she saw the pain etched in her lover's expression. The jeweler didn't respond. Instead she grabbed Shanoa's face and kissed her; Laura's actions spurred by a combination of frightened desperation and the resurgence of her burning need. She needed to feel Shanoa. She needed that indisputable affirmation that the warrior _was_ alive and it had all just been a terrible nightmare. There was so much that Laura needed, but all she could do in that moment was kiss this woman that for so long she had yearned for, yet mourned her inability to have.

But everything was different now.

Shanoa met Laura's surge of passion with her own. The ball of light was dismissed as the warrior's left arm moved to clutch Laura once more. Their lips moved together in the darkness. Shanoa was a fast learner, despite her inexperience, and easily fell into the rhythm. At length, Laura pressed her tongue against Shanoa's lips in a silent request to deepen the kiss, but the other woman was oblivious to her intentions. On the jeweler's second attempt Shanoa paused and, after a few moments of uncertainty, parted her lips. Laura felt a surge of triumph as she slipped her tongue into the younger woman's mouth.

Shanoa moaned as Laura poured everything into the kiss. She could not contain her fervent desire to show this woman how long she had waited. All the years she'd been forced to endure with this passion locked deep inside of her coupled with the hopelessness that she'd never be able to express it. Shanoa's tongue swirled around her own and their dance intensified as the warrior became more confident in her abilities.

"_Never touched by a prick, never touched by your tainted flesh."_

Laura broke the kiss. She panted as the words from her dream surged through her mind.

"I can't…" she said.

"Can't what?" The warrior's voice sounded deeper than her usual tone.

"I-" Laura didn't want to say it. Not when she was so damn close to having what she wanted, but the weight of the jeweler's guilt felt heavy in her chest. "I'm not…" Shanoa moved her arm again and the ball of light erupted in her palm. The glow allowed Laura to see the other woman. A fevered desire burned in Shanoa's eyes, but the sight did little to alleviate the vice around Laura's heart.

"Can you tell me about the dream?" Shanoa asked when the jeweler did not continue. Laura winced, but she nodded. She recounted the nightmare for Shanoa in all of its gory detail. She could not look the warrior in the eyes as she spoke, but Laura felt Shanoa tense when she told her of the dead bandits and Father Matthew's rotted face.

"They killed you," Laura said at last, "and all I could do was watch."

"Laura, look at me." The jeweler complied with Shanoa's request and looked into her blue eyes. The feverish desire had been replaced by stalwart resolve. "I'm not dead. I don't plan on that changing anytime soon. I'm here and I'm very much alive."

"I know, but for a moment I feared the worst." Laura hated feeling this vulnerable and afraid. It never led to anything good. Shanoa raised her right hand and cupped Laura's cheek.

"Is that how you perceive yourself: as some kind of... _tainted_ person?"

"Shanoa…"

"They've all lied to you." There was an angry bite to Shanoa's voice, but the anger was not directed at her.

"I don't deserve someone like you." The words flew from Laura's lips before she could stop them. "I just… don't." The jeweler trembled as her guilt got the best of her. "What have I ever done with my life? I ran away. I hid while you had to bear the weight of _my_ responsibility because I was too weak to stand my ground and fight. You took up the mantle that I inherited. You were the one who was strong enough to defy Dracula, and… you deserve better than me." She admitted at last. Shanoa was silent for a few moments before she shook her head.

"What we hypothetically may or may not deserve has nothing to do with this," the warrior said in a soft, comforting tone. "That point can always be argued. What can't be discredited are my feelings on the matter." Shanoa moved her right hand to encircle the jeweler's waist again. "And I think the world of you."

"What do you see in me?" Laura asked. She was a bit marveled by the fact that this fearless woman did not resent her for being a coward.

"I see the strongest person I know," Shanoa said in a voice that did not leave room for doubt. "Someone who's fought for me at every setback, held me at my weakest, and loved me without any promise of being loved in return. I see a woman trying with all her might to save me from the same pain she's endured for years. A woman who never strived to be something she isn't, despite the whole world seeking to convince her otherwise. But most of all, when I look at you." The warrior's embrace tightened a moment. "I see everything I aspire to be." Laura swore the world stopped for a few seconds in response to Shanoa's heartfelt words.

"You're real. You're actually real," she said in a breathy voice. She could scarcely believe it. Despite the warrior's earlier confession, the idea that Shanoa could actually love her in return felt so surreal. Shanoa gave her a confident smile.

"Of course I am." She seemed a bit charmed by jeweler's bewilderment. At long last, something in Laura's heart fell into place.

"So it's true, my love isn't damned." One of the damned could not slay the Dark Lord. If Shanoa felt this same love then it proved Father Matthew's claims of wickedness were unjust.

"It never was. You were right all along." Shanoa tilted her head to the side in thought. "You know, I'm naïve about a lot of things, and often it comes back to bite me in the ass. But I'm glad that I've never heard of a woman loving another woman until now."

"Why is that?" Laura raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her.

"Because I only had to contend with my own personal doubts once I realized I was attracted to you. I never had to experience the prejudiced you've faced."

"I thought you said that you found it strange to be attracted to another woman?"

"Well, yes, but my fears were all fixated on rejection. I was afraid that you'd find me disgusting or – worse – hate me for it." Shanoa momentarily winced before her face relaxed. "It's funny, now that I know I don't have to be afraid of losing you, everything seems so clear."

Laura smiled and stroked Shanoa's cheek with the back of her hand. For all her intimidating prowess there was such a pure simplicity to the warrior. She did not cloak herself in deceit or false intentions. Everything she did, everything she said, originated out of some form of love.

"I have to ask: when did you fall for me?" Laura asked as she played with a strand of the warrior's hair. She saw Shanoa's cheeks turn a slight shade of pink as she pondered the question.

"I think, deep down, I realized I loved you that morning the thunderstorm hit," Shanoa said with a slow nod. "I remember waking up in bed afterwards and I saw you sleeping beside me. You were… breathtaking. It struck me that you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. I felt a longing for something I could not identify then, and I only understood what it was when those bandits threatened to torture you." Her brow knit in anger. "It was the same gut reaction I had when Albus' soul left my body. A refusal to let someone I love be ripped away from me, and my Glyphs returned on that wave of determination." Shanoa's expression softened. Her gaze met Laura's and the jeweler's breath caught in her throat at the sheer adoration reflected in Shanoa's eyes. "I think I know why I couldn't summon them before. In order to materialize a Glyph I need a reason to fight – someone to fight _for_ – and it's you."

_How does she do it? How does she so effortlessly break into every part of me?_

"I don't know what to say. I'm honored, more than anything." It felt like such an inadequate response, but the warrior's smile made it evident that her words were appreciated just the same.

"Now it's your turn," Shanoa said. "At what point did I unknowingly cause a beautiful woman to fall in love with me?" That question was easy enough to answer.

"I've always thought you were gorgeous, but over time my feelings slowly developed into something more than base attraction," Laura said. "From the moment I first laid eyes on you I recognized that you were broken. You claimed that you'd lost your emotions, but I don't believe that was the case. I think whatever happened in that ritual took more than your memories; it squandered your ability to feel fear and love. Without those two key components the rest of your emotions dulled to the point where you _did_ become something of a hollow shell, but not quite.

"So while I knew that your emotions were buried somewhere deep inside you it was maddening when you refused to budge." A small smile played across the jeweler's lips. "I put my heart and soul into crafting jewelry for you. I thought if I could break through to you – even in the slightest – it would be enough. Yet you'd always stand there hollow and tormented. It was then that I recognized that I knew you: your pain, your grief, your loss, all of it. I've never felt so strong a kinship with someone as when I first understood how much we shared." Laura's voice faltered. "And I wanted to save you from it. I wanted to pull you out of that all-too familiar pit of despair. I empathized with your struggles, but I fell in love with you when you began to trust me."

"Why was that so significant?" Shanoa asked.

"Because it made me feel like I mattered. You make me feel important; even if it's just to one person in the entire world." The jeweler's face glowed with adoration. "That's more than anyone else has ever given me." A familiar heat flared inside Laura's abdomen and she was filled with the urge to show the warrior just how much she meant to her. A longing to prove just how intense her love burned, but Laura held back. She had come to a decision earlier that she would not instigate anything more intimate than a kiss. Laura knew what she wanted, but if and when they'd cross that threshold was not her choice to make.

"You matter immensely." Shanoa was interrupted by a yawn. Laura grinned as the warrior shook her head in a futile attempt to stave off her fatigue.

"It looks like you need your rest."

"Very astute of you," Shanoa said in a teasing tone. "But I'm not the only one. You need to get some sleep that isn't going to be plagued with nightmares." The warrior dismissed the ball of light in her hand and darkness enveloped them once more. Shanoa lay down on her mat and pulled Laura with her. The jeweler tensed as her desire escalated when Shanoa wrapped both arms around her and held her close. "Is this all right?" the warrior asked. A touch of uncertainty had crept into her voice as she felt the older woman's hesitation.

Laura closed her eyes and slipped her arm around Shanoa's waist. The embrace was a welcome comfort, especially after her nightmare. Her lust faded as Laura recognized the pure-hearted chivalry of the warrior's intentions.

_She just wants to protect me; even if it means protecting me from myself._

"It's perfect," Laura said, and she could not remember the last time she had felt this content.

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> this chapter needed a lot of cleaning up. The first draft was a mess of sloppy writing and there was a fair amount of repetition. I'm almost embarrassed that I thought it was good enough to post, but live and learn.

I do love how Laura turned out to be this hopeless romantic. For a number of plot-related reasons it's ideal for me to relay most current events through Shanoa's perspective so it's nice when I get the chance to dictate Laura's thoughts outside of a flashback.

Since this is a post-game fic I don't often find myself having to retell a specific scene from the game. When it does happen, though, repeating the dialogue verbatim would not flow well into my writing style so I take some creative liberties with the game script. The quest-giving conversations are short as befitting a video game, but in a detailed story like this they need to be fleshed out more. It was fun to note the disparity between Shanoa's personality in the first scene as compared to the final one. It shows how much she's developed.

The conversation with Marcel, as mentioned a while ago, was moved from chapter seven. In the original version, however, he's succinct and vague. He makes a passing implication to Laura's attraction, but doesn't acknowledge it to the point where she's forced to comment on it. I almost wish that Marcel appeared in more scenes as his character's a delight to write. He's a professional observer, and it follows that he'd be the first one to notice the budding relationship.


	17. Electricity

Chapter Seventeen

_Electricity_

Shanoa's eyes lingered on the woman asleep in her arms. The warrior had been awake for some time; the light of the rising sun roused her from a peaceful slumber. She had found Laura still pressed flush against her. The jeweler's right arm was wrapped tightly around her waist. It was odd to note how their roles had reversed. Now Laura was the one who needed unwavering emotional support, and it was the warrior who had instigated their current protective embrace.

Not even a month had passed since the destruction of Dracula's castle, but it felt like a lifetime. The events of the past four days had confounded her in ways that Barlowe and the Dark Lord couldn't have conceived of. Somehow it all led here: to her lying on the ground in the Carpathian wilderness with a beautiful woman wrapped in her arms. A woman she loved, and – just as surprising – a woman who loved her back.

When she knocked on Laura's door that fateful morning she never imagined that this would be the end result. She had reached out for a friend, but what they were now was something that was decidedly more.

Shanoa was perplexed as to how she should label this turn in their relationship. What did their mutual affections make them? Were they lovers? Or were they required to perform some sort of act before that term applied to them? They had kissed, but was that enough? Did some other label exist outside of Shanoa's awareness that would be a more accurate reflection of their current status?

The warrior shook her head. She was over-thinking it. The terminology was semantic in the end. What mattered was how they felt, and though a romantic relationship was completely new territory for her it didn't change who they were. She once again mulled over their conversation the previous night.

"_You don't know what they say about people like me. You don't know what they do to us."_

Despite the pain, sorrow, and anger they had caused her, Laura was going back to Baia. She was willing to face these people who had damned her, all because she wanted to take care of Shanoa. At least now the bitterness that Laura held towards her mother had some basis to it. According to the jeweler she was complacent to a fault, but Shanoa had a nagging feeling that she'd only heard half of the story; though she questioned if she should press the subject. Laura had already revealed so much, and that disturbing dream sat at the forefront of Shanoa's mind.

"_Scarlet for your tainted flesh."_

Shanoa tightened her embrace.

"I'll fight for you," she whispered. "I won't let anyone in Baia harm or degrade you. I'll stand by your side no matter what." The warrior kissed the top of Laura's forehead. The jeweler shifted a bit when her lips pulled away.

"Shanoa?" Laura's eyelids fluttered.

"I'm here," she said. The jeweler's eyes slowly opened and she looked up at Shanoa.

"Did you mean it?" Laura asked.

"Mean what?"

"What you whispered just now." Shanoa's cheeks turned a slight shade of pink when she realized that Laura had been awake.

"You heard me…"

"Yes." Laura dropped her gaze. "If you want to take it back-"

"I would never recant what I said," Shanoa said with finality. Laura's eyes met her own again and she gave the younger woman a grateful smile. The jeweler reached up and placed a quick kiss to Shanoa's lips.

"Thank you." Laura moved until she was lying at eye level next to the warrior. "Those people think they 'cleansed' me during that ritual. I don't know what to expect if they find out about us."

"We'll deal with them when, and if, the time comes. They don't have to know."

"My mother won't be fooled. She'll immediately recognize how much you mean to me," Laura said with a sigh. Shanoa gave her a quizzical look.

"You think she'll object?" Laura's mother was still quite an enigma to the warrior. What little Laura had spoken of her did not offer much insight into the woman's personality. The jeweler's brows knit together.

"I don't know what I expect. She's of a different breed than my father. Her motivations have never been clear. The woman simply doesn't fight for anything, and that includes her own daughter. It makes her nearly impossible to read. So I don't know how she'll react to our relationship. She's never talked about the ritual, for example." The jeweler frowned. "Though she wasn't given the opportunity to voice an opinion."

"Because of your father?" Shanoa asked despite the absence of any other suspects.

"He was livid that I would 'choose' to procreate with women instead of men. The ritual was bad enough, but he tore into me once the villagers let me go." Laura's expression turned sullen. "He refused to accept the fact that my romantic desires are not the result of any conscious choice."

"Did he also subscribe to the notion that your love is a sin?" Shanoa asked. The jeweler scoffed and shook her head.

"He didn't give a damn about morality. He just cared about blood. It all came back to the Belmont clan and that goddamn oath…

_Father Matthew had offered to escort Laura home, but she refused him outright. Somehow she managed to come up with a convincing excuse and he allowed her to leave on her own. He gave her an empty embrace that made her stomach churn. The last thing she wanted was for this disgusting man to touch her again, but she knew it was wiser not to object. The priest instructed her on which Biblical passages she should read to prevent the non-existent demon from returning before he at last released her from his grip. A few villagers relayed their congratulations, but Laura paid them no heed._

_She staggered through the empty streets in an emotional haze. Was she really that worthless? She mattered so little that her own parents had given her up without argument. If they didn't think she was worth fighting for, then who would?_

_Laura did not want to go home. Not now – not ever – but for some unfathomable reason her feet carried her there regardless. She was faced with two choices: go home or flee into the wilderness. The latter was much more desirable, but she'd have to face her parents at some point._

_Her father was waiting for her when she plodded through the front door. He stood in the middle of the living room with his arms crossed over his broad chest. Laura looked past him and saw that her mother was still sitting on the bottom of the staircase. Had the woman moved since the villagers dragged her away?_

"_What in God's name were you thinking?" her father asked in a demanding tone. Laura's attention cut back to his face. He scowled down at her. Endless disapproval gleamed in his hard eyes._

"_If, by some chance, you have any shred of compassion left in you then you'll leave me alone," the teenager said in a shaky voice. Her father's eyes narrowed at her words._

"_And ignore this blatant disregard for your duty?"_

"_I didn't choose to be like this-" _

"_You were the one who chose to go into that room. You chose to." He faltered a moment in disgust. "Fornicate with that woman! You had every chance to turn back, but you made the conscious choice to continue." Laura couldn't believe his implication._

"_Why would I choose to be this way? Why would I choose to be something that was guaranteed to ostracize me?" Her voice cracked as memories of the ritual flashed inside her head. She became acutely aware of her drenched state and the cold water that still trailed down her skin. Why would anyone want this?_

"_I hope tonight's events have beaten some sense into you." His tone was as cold as the frigid holy water. "Two women cannot conceive a child, and you have a duty to carry on the Belmont line-"_

_That was the final straw. A tether snapped inside of Laura. She had just been humiliated in front of a crowd, but all he could think about was that oath!_

"_FUCK YOUR DUTY!" He did not flinch when she screamed at the top of her lungs. "I will be the kind of person that I want to be! And if that does not adhere to what my ancestors desired then so be it!"_

"_You're a Belmont. You don't have that privilege," he said the familiar phrase. Laura hated those words. They were what had prevented her from fleeing Baia with the woman she loved, but now they fueled the rage that blazed within her._

"_And just what makes a Belmont these days?" She had yearned to challenge him for years and now that she had crossed that line Laura's defiance flowed out of her in a torrent. She stepped forward and glared up into her father's eyes. "You're so bound to the idea of this ancient oath that you can't see what your precious bloodline has become! Look at the Belmont clan now: a pitiful force that hides in the mountains because they won't even publically claim their own name for fear of retaliation. A clan so devoted to bloodshed that they've lost their respect for life. And yet, despite endless struggle as they cling to an oath, it's a clan that couldn't even sustain itself!" Laura's lips twisted upwards in an indignant sneer. "If this is what it means to be a Belmont then I will bear no guilt if the last of the bloodline dies with me!"_

_She cried out as her father slapped her across the face. Laura's head spun and she tasted blood on her tongue. The inside of her cheek had sliced open on a tooth. He had hit her. Just like Father Matthew had hit her. Laura's eyes burned with fury as she looked up at her father. Abel's emotions – if he possessed any – were unreadable as he stared back._

_Not even a shred of compassion._

_Laura spat on her father's leather shoes. The clear liquid ran red with strands of fresh blood._

"_If being a Belmont means being just like you." Her bottom lip quivered. "I'd rather die than let myself become one."_

_She fled before he had the chance to respond. She ran out the front door and stumbled back onto the streets of Baia. Tears welled up in Laura's eyes as she took off towards the nearby wilderness, but she did not cry. She would not cry because of Abel. She had given him enough tears._

"I remained in the woods for close to a week. No one followed me." Laura tried to maintain an apathetic expression, but she could not hide the pain in her eyes. "I made no attempt to cover my tracks. If my father wished to find me he easily could have, but he never came.

"I knew how to scavenge for food and find water. I could have survived out there indefinitely, but there was a heavy thunderstorm near the end of the week. I failed to find shelter and wound up crouched beneath a fir tree as I waited for the storm to pass. Once the sky cleared I was faced with a choice: return home or risk getting sick from exposure. So I went back to Baia." The jeweler fell silent.

"What happened when you returned?" Shanoa asked.

"My mother was relieved to see me safe. She stayed by my side until it became clear that I didn't catch a fever. My father, on the other hand, avoided me altogether." Laura didn't attempt to hide the bitterness in her tone. "For a long time he couldn't even look me in the eyes. I guess I finally presented him with a challenge that he couldn't conquer with mere brawn."

"It sounds to me like you intimidated him," Shanoa said. The jeweler scoffed and shook her head.

"I doubt it. My father wasn't intimidated by anyone."

"You said some powerful words. I'd imagine that receiving such condemnation from your own child would make anyone reexamine their actions." Laura mulled over Shanoa's argument for a minute before she sighed in defeat.

"I guess I'll never know what he was thinking at the time. It's not like I can ask him now." A hint of regret lined her voice.

"It does sound like your mother was happy to see you, though."

"She comforted me, yes, but she didn't fight for me." Laura's expression turned solemn as she spoke. "It was always too little too late." Shanoa paused for a moment as she debated how to respond.

"But she does care," the warrior said. "Even if she couldn't give you the support you needed at least she made an effort to try in some capacity."

"If you aren't willing to fight for someone you love then how much do you _truly_ love them?" Laura's nostrils flared in anger. "There's cowardice, and then there's outright neglect. If, deep down, she really cared then she would have done more."

"Maybe there's another side to it," Shanoa said. "Perhaps there were different aspects to these events that you weren't privy to." Laura gave her an incredulous look.

"Are you defending her?" the jeweler asked in disbelief.

"Well…" Shanoa tried to find the best way to phrase her current thought without causing unnecessary conflict.

"I thought you of all people could understand how I feel." She winced at the genuine hurt in Laura's voice. "You've been betrayed by people you trusted, who raised you, and who claimed to have your best interests at heart."

"I also believed that I'd been betrayed by Albus, but that was a lie." Shanoa at last found the right words and the explanation flowed from her with ease. "I only saw what Barlowe wanted me to see, and it was this limited sight that was our undoing. By the time I saw the truth of the matter it was too late. I had killed Albus." She paused as a lump rose in her throat. "I killed the one person who was trying to save me, all because I perceived his actions as originating from ill intent. If I had sought to talk to him – to understand his reasoning – instead of just taking Barlowe's words at face value, then maybe Albus would still be alive."

Shanoa shuddered and a few tears fell from her eyes. Even though Albus had forgiven her foibles she still felt guilt over his death. She would always have to live with the fact that he died by her hands.

"Shanoa…" Laura wiped away the warrior's tears with her hand. Shanoa gulped, raised her own hand, and placed it over Laura's. She made sure to hold the older woman's gaze. It was imperative that the jeweler saw the wealth of guilt and regret that plagued her.

"I don't want you to make the same mistake I did," the warrior said. "I don't want to see you turn against your own family without taking her side into account. Maybe your mother does have her reasons for acting the way she did. I'm not saying that they justify her neglect, but if you can gain even the slightest bit of understanding it will ease the burden you carry."

"I don't know if I can." Uncertainty crept into Laura's eyes. Shanoa squeezed the jeweler's hand and a small smile played across her face that banished the evidence of her guilt.

"I _know_ you can," Shanoa said without a hint of doubt. Laura smirked.

"At least one of us does."

"You faced your father, you faced my grief, and you've faced a spiteful crowd. Every time you've come out victorious. One quiet woman is no match for you," the warrior said with a confident nod. Laura smiled at her encouraging words.

"It would be foolish of me to argue with the Blade over battle odds," she said in a teasing tone and Shanoa's smile transformed into a sly grin.

"One should never bet against the predictions made by a trained professional."

IXI

Laura groaned when she glanced up at the sky.

"Shit, this doesn't look promising." The jeweler had predicted earlier that they could reach Baia by the end of the day if they made good time. They were delayed when Shanoa decided to take a quick bath before they broke camp and now the gray storm clouds overhead all but guaranteed they would not reach their destination before sundown. Shanoa heard the distant rumble of thunder and she shuddered as a cold gust of wind swept across the path.

"We should have brought Daniela with us," the warrior said. "She has a knack for predicting inclement weather."

"If we did bring Daniela with us we'd be lucky to have made it out of Wygol by now," Laura said with a playful grin. Shanoa chuckled.

"Point taken, but she's quite keen for someone who supposedly suffers from a faulty memory." Daniela's assessment of the warrior's drawings had been insightful on many levels. The old woman's perception was uncanny. It wasn't just her age; Daniela possessed deep understanding. That was a character trait one couldn't acquire simply via the mere passage of time. It required both wisdom and maturity.

"_A work of art – regardless of the medium – offers a glimpse into the soul of the person who created it. One drawing can say so much about an artist, but you have spoiled me with three of them."_

"I've noticed that too." Laura's voice broke into her thoughts. "I'm convinced she's putting on an act to stay, how to phrase it, as inconspicuous as possible." Shanoa gave her a quizzical look.

"You think she's in hiding?"

"It wouldn't surprise me."

"But from whom?" Shanoa asked. Laura shrugged her shoulders.

"I have no idea, but Wygol seems to be a haven for people burdened with secrets." The jeweler's head turned as another rumble of thunder rolled past them. "We can talk about her later. Right now we need to find shelter before this storm breaks. Thankfully, I think I know where we are."

"You recognize these woods?" Shanoa made a quick visual scan of their surroundings. This part of the mountain wilderness didn't look any different from the rest.

"We passed a group of rocks a little ways back that I used as a landmark when my father and I went hunting," Laura said. "They have these distinctive red rings running across their surface. We're just shy of five kilometers from Baia, but there's no way we'd make it there in time." The jeweler tugged on Shanoa's arm and steered her to the left. "There are some cliffs west of here that are littered with caves. We should be able to reach one if we hurry." The warrior grinned.

"Lead the way."

"Do try and keep up this time. I almost lost you last night," Laura said in a teasing tone as they stepped off the trail and into the underbrush.

"Well that was your own fault." Shanoa maintained the lighthearted banter as she followed at the jeweler's heels. Laura pushed away any obstructing branches with her arms to clear a path in front of them. "You were so giddy at the prospect of tending to your hair that even a seasoned hunter would have trouble keeping pace with you." The warrior ducked just in time to dodge a branch that Laura allowed to snap behind her. "What was that for?" Shanoa asked in bewilderment.

"I get murderous when you make joking remarks about my hair, remember?" Laura paused to look back at the warrior with a wicked grin on her face. "Besides, one tiny branch should be no match for Ecclesia's mighty Blade."

"Even the Blade doesn't want to get smacked in the face." Shanoa shot her an exaggerated sneer which served to fuel the jeweler's mirth.

"Then I suggest you think before you tease." Laura winked at the younger woman. Shanoa shook her head, but failed to suppress a smile.

"You're incorrigible."

"And you're much too serious." Laura resumed their march through the forest. "It seems I need to teach you how to get more fun out of life." Shanoa quickened her pace to keep up with the older woman.

"I have fun." The warrior pursed her lips. Though she could not see her expression, the pout in her voice garnered a chuckle from Laura.

"You don't have nearly enough of it."

"So how do you plan on fixing that?" Shanoa asked. She almost ran headlong into Laura as the jeweler ground to a sudden stop. There was a momentary pause before she turned and looked at the warrior with an expression that made Shanoa's heart race. Laura's eyes burned with a familiar yearning, but something else had joined the flames. There was a devious, almost feral glint in her amber irises that stirred an impulsive desire deep in the warrior's chest.

_What is she..?_

The moment was shattered by a loud roar of thunder overhead and Laura glared up at the offending sky.

"We need to hurry!" She tugged on Shanoa's arm again. Their brisk walk turned into a run as the storm closed in. The surrounding trees swayed in the wind and fallen leaves swirled about them, but the rain hesitated to fall. At last the forest gave way and they came upon a wall of jagged dark stone. Laura did not break her sprint as she turned north and ran along the side of the cliff. Shanoa followed close behind her.

Their path was, for the most part, unobstructed by foliage. For some unknown reason the forest did not extend to meet the face of the cliff which left a few meters of open ground between the trees and the wall of rock. Green vines and moss grew over the surface of the stone, but Shanoa did not see any cavernous openings. Her hair billowed behind her as she ran headlong into a strong gust of wind. If they didn't find shelter soon they'd be in trouble.

"We're close!" She heard Laura call over the sound of the wind. A large, rotting tree had fallen across their path and they maneuvered around the ancient trunk; its exposed roots a twisted mass of gnarled knots. Just beyond the tree Shanoa saw the entrance to a cave and the women sprinted inside as the first raindrops began to fall from the sky. "Thank God we made it in time!" Laura sighed in relief once they were safely inside. While they had managed to avoid the downpour the combination of wind and underbrush had tousled their appearance. Shanoa's long hair was tangled and studded with dead leaves. Laura fared no better, though the older woman had yet to notice.

A strange thought occurred to Shanoa as she regarded the jeweler. Laura didn't display any signs of physical exertion from their sprint. She wasn't even breathing hard. The warrior wondered what to make of it before another realization forced its way to the forefront of her mind.

"I wouldn't relax just yet," Shanoa said as she summoned Melio Secare in her right hand and Vol Luminato in her left. The ball of white light illuminated the dark cavern. It was larger than the entrance had suggested. The cave was at least forty meters wide and extended farther back than the light of the Glyph could reach. Shanoa's grip on the ethereal sword tightened as she took a few tentative steps forward.

"Shanoa?" Laura asked when she took note of the warrior's offensive stance.

"We need to make sure there aren't any animals in the cave with us." Shanoa's hair stood on end as she progressed while the jeweler did not move away from the entrance. After a couple minutes of stalking Shanoa caught sight of the back wall and relaxed after she made a final scan of the cavern. She dismissed Melio Secare as she walked back to where Laura waited. "It's empty, we should be safe here," the warrior said with a reassuring smile. Laura's lips curved upwards in turn and her face glowed in the light of Vol Luminato.

"That's a relief, because I'm not leaving this cave anytime soon." They both glanced outside. The storm had broken and sheets of heavy rain cascaded over the wilderness. There was a loud crack as a bolt of lightning snapped in the air overhead, but they were safe in the shelter of the cavern. They watched the raging storm for a minute before Laura broke the silence. "This is one of the caves my father and I scouted for potential use during a hunt. He wanted the assurance that if we ever needed to seek refuge while out in the woods we'd have the necessary supplies to make a fire." Laura pointed to a dark crevice in one of the nearby walls. "There should be some firewood over there."

Shanoa followed Laura's instruction and, sure enough, a large stack of logs and branches of varying size was hidden inside the crevice. She turned over one of the logs with her foot. Some insects scurried out of holes they had burrowed in the old wood, but it was dry and would burn well. While warmth was not a primary concern they would need a fire to keep the cave illuminated and deter any animals who happened upon the entrance while the pair was inside. Shanoa gathered as much wood as she could carry in her free arm and returned to Laura's side.

"We should build it near the entrance," the jeweler said with a nod. It was not surprising that the same thought had occurred to her. Laura was trained to be a Belmont hunter, after all.

They dropped their packs on the ground and with some help from Ignis they soon had a fire blazing. Shanoa dismissed Vol Luminato and made a few more trips to the wood pile so they would have extra fuel nearby. Laura unrolled their mats and laid them out next to the fire.

"You're not planning on going to sleep already, are you?" Shanoa asked as she placed her last batch of wood on the ground. Laura shook her head.

"Far from it, I just don't want to sit on this filthy floor," the jeweler said. Shanoa rolled her eyes, but her lips held a fond smile.

"At some point you're going to have to reconcile with the fact that we _are_ in the middle of the woods and you _are_ going to get dirty." She teased the older woman. Laura's face morphed into an expression of faux horror.

"Never!" Shanoa giggled at her insistence and sat down beside her on one of the mats.

"There's something I want to ask you," the warrior said once they were settled in.

"What is it?" Laura turned her head towards the younger woman.

"How often do you run?" The question caused the jeweler's cheeks to turn a slight shade of pink.

"So you noticed."

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," Shanoa said, "your lack of exhaustion just struck me as odd." She raised a cursory eyebrow at Laura's uncomfortable expression. "Were you hiding it from me?"

"I was worried it'd make you wonder about the kind of life I led before I found myself in Wygol. My father implemented a strict exercise regimen as part of my daily training. I've been doing it for so many years that it's become an ingrained habit. Even after his death I just never stopped." Laura scratched behind her ear. "I've put it on hiatus the past few weeks, though. You deserved my full attention." The jeweler gave her a loving smile.

"So you've got some muscle hiding beneath your elaborate dresses and accessories?" Shanoa poked at Laura's stomach and the jeweler swatted her hand away.

"I doubt I could match you in terms of strength, but I try to keep myself in shape. Besides, I want to give my clothes an attractive display to work with."

"Speaking of which, there's something I need to tell you." The warrior's tone turned solemn.

"What is it?" Worry flittered across Laura's face. Shanoa pulled a crumbling brown leaf out of the jeweler's tousled curls and held it up for her to see.

"You've got a bunch of dead leaves caught in your hair."

"_What?_" Laura ran her hands through her hair and a horrified look formed on her face when she confirmed that the warrior had told her the truth. "Shit!" The jeweler scrambled over to her pack. Shanoa managed to stifle a laugh as she watched Laura frantically search through the bag. In a matter of seconds the jeweler located a hairbrush and leapt to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Shanoa asked as Laura took a few steps away from the fire.

"The leaves have to go somewhere, and my mat is not a suitable location." Once the jeweler determined she had covered enough distance she set about fixing her hair.

Shanoa watched her as she removed the brown leaves and combed out the tangled knots. She could not see Laura's face, but the memory of that intense look the older woman had given her in the forest drifted through her mind. She had seen something similar in the jeweler's eyes the previous night after she had woken up from her nightmare. A strange feeling washed over Shanoa as she recalled the emotions she'd observed in those amber eyes. It was as if Laura had been on the cusp of doing something bold.

_As if she could just barely contain herself._

Laura moved her hair to one side and exposed the pale skin of her shoulder in the process. The sight caused a tether of restraint to snap inside of the warrior. It was a seemingly inconsequential image, but it triggered a powerful realization. Shanoa rose to her feet as her body moved of its own accord.

She suddenly understood – with burning clarity – that she could have this woman, because Laura wanted her too. That intense look had confirmed everything. It bespoke of the now-familiar desire that pulled Shanoa forward.

_Something bold…_

Laura didn't notice that she had crept up behind her. The warrior paused for a brief moment as a flutter of nervousness spiked in her chest, but the fear was soon drowned out by the knowledge that pulsed through her.

_A wish to hold you, to touch you, to know all of you and be known in kind. Because I want __**you**__ with a fervent desire that burns stronger than anything I have felt before, and only you will be enough to satisfy my yearning._

The jeweler gasped as Shanoa wrapped her arms around her abdomen and pulled the older woman to her.

"Shanoa?" Laura's voice wavered on the name. The warrior didn't respond, instead she pressed herself flush against Laura's back. She could have this gorgeous woman because she was not alone in her love. She felt Laura shudder when she kissed the bare skin of her shoulder. Something had overtaken the warrior; an urge that was both heated and primal, driven by an overwhelming resurgence of lust. "What are you..?" She heard the same desires reflected in the jeweler's voice. Her grip tightened and she placed another kiss higher up on Laura's shoulder.

"I know what you're doing," Shanoa said. Her lips moved against the older woman's skin when she spoke. Her own voice sounded strange to her ears; breathy and deeper than normal. "You've been holding yourself back because you're afraid of pushing me into something that I'm not ready for, but you're wrong. I don't want you to suppress it." The warrior moved her right hand and trailed her fingers across Laura's stomach. "You don't need to restrain this urge because I can say, without a doubt, that I want you just as bad as you want me."

"Shanoa…" The name came out in a gasp. She heard a soft thud and surmised that Laura must have dropped the hairbrush.

"Let go, please," the warrior said. "I don't know how far this boldness can take me. I need you to show me the way." There was a pause before Laura twisted in her arms. Shanoa's breath caught in her throat when she saw the look in the jeweler's eyes. Her long-repressed desire was so close to the surface it seemed the slightest crack would break the damnable seal of restraint, and Shanoa had every intention to break it.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Laura asked as she searched for any sign of doubt in the warrior's expression. "Do not take my personal desires into account. If you're not ready then I-"

"You can't take anything from me that I haven't freely given you," Shanoa said without hesitation. The honesty in her voice was enough to give the jeweler pause. The older woman wrestled with an objection, but it failed to pass her lips.

"Aren't you nervous?" she asked instead. Laura's voice was barely above a whisper. The warrior smiled.

"Of course, but that doesn't change what I want." Shanoa willed what remained of her own restraint to fall away. Her expression laid bare her insecurities, but it also made evident her yearning. There was no question in her blue eyes. She did not finish her sentence until she saw joyous understanding dawn on the other woman's face and the last barrier between them dissipated. The seal was broken. "And I want you in every single way."

Laura surged forward as soon as the final word had left Shanoa's mouth and she eagerly met the jeweler's lips with her own. The kiss was wild and fevered as Laura lost all semblance of control. Shanoa tried to match her in intensity. She did not care if she was sloppy or inexperienced, because that knowledge would come to her in time. What mattered was how much she desired this woman. Shanoa parted her lips and she moaned when Laura's tongue swirled around her own.

It was odd to hear such a lustful sound come from her own throat, but the warrior did not have the chance to linger on the thought. Laura gripped the front of her leather breast piece and pulled the younger woman towards the fire. The movement broke their kiss, but the hungry look in Laura's amber eyes was just as intoxicating. Shanoa held her gaze as she allowed herself to be guided in whatever direction the older woman wished. The warrior felt her breath come in heavy pants and her heart pounded in her chest. There was no doubt about it now; they were, indeed, lovers. They came to a stop next to the mats and Laura tugged on the armor in her hands.

"Take this off," she said in a low, demanding voice. Shanoa complied at once. She released the buckles and straps that lay around her neck and over her thighs with practiced ease. Once the breast piece gave way the warrior tossed it to the side. The armor landed with a dull thud on the cavern floor.

Once the obstruction was taken care of Laura grabbed Shanoa's arms and brought the younger woman down with her as she sank to her knees. Shanoa gasped when she found herself straddling Laura's thighs while the jeweler knelt on top of one of the mats. There was a responding flare of urgency between her legs as she pressed against her lover, but Laura drew her into another kiss and the warrior's ability to form a coherent thought became muddled. She locked her hands behind Laura's head while the jeweler's hands trailed across the exposed skin of her back. Shanoa shivered when the older woman's fingers traced the lines of her tattoo and Laura nipped at her bottom lip.

Shanoa lost herself in the heat of the moment. She felt her insecurities swept away by Laura's determination. The jeweler moved with a precise understanding of what she wanted and it served to fan the desire that built within the younger woman. For a few blissful seconds it all felt so easy and natural, but then Laura's hands moved to touch the bow at the base of the warrior's neck. Shanoa started and the spell was shattered as she pulled away.

"Wait," the warrior said. She shivered again, not from desire, but from sudden embarrassment. Concern flittered across Laura's face as she looked into her lover's eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"I…" Shanoa blushed. She knew full well what she craved, but it presented a problem. In order for Laura to touch her the way she wanted the warrior would have to take off her clothes. The prospect of undressing in front of another person would have been terrifying even under normal circumstances, but this meant so much more. "I'm sorry. I'm just…"

"You can tell me," Laura said in a comforting voice.

"It's my damn modesty again." The warrior's blush deepened. "I've told you this before, but no one has ever seen me naked." The jeweler's eyes widened with recognition before her face fell in shame.

"We should stop," Laura said with a shake of her head. She tried to gently push Shanoa away, but the younger woman grabbed her lover by the shoulders and held her in place.

"Laura, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's all right. I'm being too forceful." The jeweler looked away, but not before Shanoa saw intense fear and anger swirl amongst the shame that blanketed her amber eyes. The younger woman cupped Laura's face in her hands and bade her lover to meet her gaze.

"What are you afraid of?" the warrior asked. A bright film of moisture covered Laura's eyes and caused them to glisten in the light of the campfire.

"I'm just like those bandits. I'm forcing you to reveal yourself in order to fulfill my own selfish desires." Her words made Shanoa's heart constrict inside her chest.

_Oh my love._

She leaned forward and gave the jeweler a tender, lingering kiss. When she pulled back she noticed that Laura had shed a few tears. The droplets of water dribbled down her cheeks. The warrior wiped her lover's tears away with the back of her hand.

"You're _nothing_ like them," Shanoa said in a voice that was strong and sure. "Those vile men weren't given anything. That makes all the difference in the world. I give you this, Laura." She took Laura's hands in her own and guided them back to the bow at the base of her neck. "I trust you with this. I may hesitate due to nerves or embarrassment, but that doesn't change the fact that I consent to this of my own free will."

"I don't want you to be scared."

"Then show me that there's no reason to be." Laura nodded and paused to consider something.

"I have an idea," she said. Laura's hands left Shanoa's collar and wrapped around the warrior's waist. Once she had a firm grasp on her lover the jeweler twisted and lowered both of them onto the mat. Shanoa lay sprawled on her back while the older woman hovered above her. "I'll help you ease into this. For now I'll make sure to leave most of your clothes on." The warrior's brow knit in puzzlement.

"But then how will you..?" She still didn't have a clear idea of how she and Laura could even have sex, and this suggestion only served to deepen her confusion. Shanoa had always assumed (based on the books she had read) that sex required both parties to be naked.

"Just trust me," Laura said. The jeweler gave her a quick kiss before she sat back on her knees. "You may be nervous, but I want to show you that I'm not." Shanoa gaped at her lover as she began to undress. Laura untied the sash at her waist and surprised the warrior when she tossed it aside with little thought or regard. She tugged the top over her head and slipped the skirt down her legs. These clothes were placed to the side with more care and Laura dropped them on top of the vacant mat.

Shanoa's heart raced as she drunk in the sight of her lover. The only articles of clothing that covered Laura's torso were her black bra and undergarments. For the first time she took note of the jeweler's physique. Shanoa's earlier suspicion had been correct: Laura _was_ hiding some muscle underneath her fashionable exterior. Her prowess was not defined like the warrior's; rather her strength was more subtle. Laura's skin remained smooth until she made any kind of movement and the shift made evident the hard muscles beneath her flesh.

"You look bewildered." Laura's voice broke into her thoughts. Shanoa blinked hard and her eyes glanced up to meet the jeweler's.

"It just amazes me." The older woman raised an eyebrow at her statement.

"What does?" she asked. Shanoa rose up onto her elbows and ran the fingers of her right hand across her lover's abdomen. Laura's muscles tightened and she shivered at the contact. Shanoa felt a surge of pride as the heated lust returned to the jeweler's eyes.

"That every part of you is beautiful," the warrior said in awe. Laura opened her mouth to reply, but couldn't manage to give voice to her thought. Instead, she leaned forward and kissed Shanoa again.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," Laura said against her lips when they broke apart. She gently pushed Shanoa down until she was sprawled on her back once more. "Now, let me show you how beautiful _you_ are." She raised her hands to the bow at the base of the warrior's neck. Shanoa shuddered in anticipation and Laura gave her a warm smile. "There's no need to be nervous. It's just me." The assurance managed to calm her down a bit. She was right, after all. Laura had taken care of her all this time, and the jeweler would not fail to do so now. A small smile touched Shanoa's lips and she nodded.

Laura untied the bow and pulled the bodice of the blue dress down the front of Shanoa's torso. The warrior closed her eyes as she tried to surrender herself to the heat of the moment. She shivered when her chest was exposed to the cool air of the cave and she felt her nipples tighten in response. Laura paused when her hands reached Shanoa's hips. The younger woman didn't need to see her lover; she felt the jeweler's amber eyes appraise her.

"You're so gorgeous." Laura's voice was just above a whisper. Shanoa gasped when the jeweler leaned down and kissed her stomach. Her back arched and her legs tightened in a reflexive response. Another surge of primal heat coursed through her as she grasped Laura's hips between her thighs. The jeweler's hands rested on either side of her waist as she continued to kiss her lover's abdomen. When Laura's tongue darted out to taste her flesh it was almost enough for the warrior to forget her nakedness. After a few moments she felt the older woman's lips travel upwards, over her ribs, but Laura paused just before she reached her breasts. Shanoa felt her breath come in short gasps as she waited for her lover to move again.

"Please…" The plea fell unconsciously from Shanoa's lips. That single word was all the motivation Laura needed and she complied with her lover's wish. Laura cupped the warrior's right breast in her hand and Shanoa trembled as the older woman teased her nipple with her thumb before she took it into her mouth. Shanoa heard herself moan as Laura suckled her. The sensation stoked the fire that burned in her gut and she felt a responding throb between her legs. Shanoa's hands found their way to the back of Laura's head and the warrior wrapped her fingers in her lover's hair as Laura's tongue swirled around her nipple.

She lost all sense of herself as the jeweler's mouth worked on her breast. Suddenly, she didn't care about her modesty or how unprecedented this experience was. All she cared about was the feeling of Laura's body pressed against hers and the wet heat of the jeweler's mouth on her skin. Shanoa was vaguely aware of the strange noises she produced, but they sounded foreign and far off as her senses honed in on the marvelous woman in her arms. At length Laura's mouth switched to her other breast. Shanoa arched her back again when the jeweler's teeth nipped at the sensitive bud that crowned it.

Part of her wanted to stay in this blissful state where her nervousness couldn't touch her, but the escalating throb between Shanoa's legs demanded more. A wave of need had begun to build inside of her, and the warrior knew that it could not be sated by her lover's current actions.

"Laura, you should…" Shanoa paused when she realized that she was not sure how to express what she desired in words. The jeweler's tongue ceased its movements and Shanoa opened her eyes. She waited for Laura to resume, but when it became clear that she had no such intention the warrior looked down at her lover. Laura's demeanor had taken on a primal air. Her chest heaved as she stared up at Shanoa and the jeweler's amber irises flooded with that delicious yearning.

"Tell me," Laura said in a low voice that sent a shiver down the warrior's spine.

"I want something… more." She managed to say. Laura nodded in understanding and she glided up Shanoa's body. Her eyes never left the warrior's as her right hand skimmed over Shanoa's side and rested against her hip. Another spike of nervousness pierced through Shanoa's chest, but its sharp bite was quelled by the intensity in her lover's gaze.

"I need to ask you something before I continue. Have you ever… inserted anything inside yourself?" Shanoa winced at Laura's blunt question.

"N-no." She felt her cheeks flush.

"Then I won't breach that barrier right now," Laura said with a comforting smile. "I want to show you that sex is pleasurable. You just need to learn how to let yourself go."

"I'm trying."

"I know. I was the same way." She gave Shanoa's hip a slight squeeze. "Are you ready?" The warrior trembled, but she nodded.

"Yes." Her eyes burned with need as she looked into Laura's. "I am." The jeweler captured her lips in another kiss and moved her hand to the slit that ran up the side of the warrior's skirt. Her heart raced as Laura's hand delved under the fabric. The jeweler's fingers slid across the front of her pelvis and she tensed when they slipped beneath her undergarments.

Laura's fingers quickly found the nub and Shanoa emitted a faint cry at the resulting jolt in her gut. The jeweler broke their kiss with a sharp hiss, but her fingers did not cease their movement. Shanoa squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head back.

A coiled tension built within the warrior as her lover's fingers circled around her. At last she felt it: the pleasure that could sate her lust. Shanoa tried to hold onto the feeling of ecstasy and lose herself in it, but where that had been so easy to achieve when Laura suckled her the bliss had become a fickle thing. The wave would build inside her as the jeweler's fingers stroked her flesh and she came close – _so close_ – to something, some kind of release, but then the sensation would ebb away before she could surrender to it.

Frustration roiled inside her chest at the ever retreating edge and the third time her body pulled away from it Shanoa cried out in anger. She cursed under her breath as Laura's fingers stopped moving at the distressed sound.

"Shanoa, look at me," Laura said in soft voice. The warrior complied and she opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred by unshed tears and she stared up at the stone ceiling. Why was this so difficult? This was everything that she craved. So why, then, was that fulfillment so hard to reach?

"I can't." Shanoa choked on the words as a few tears escaped the corners of her eyes.

"Yes, you can. Just breathe and let go."

"I think I'm… afraid." The warrior's mouth twisted into a frown, but she mustered the courage to look into her lover's eyes. "It's just so much."

"I know, but you're not alone." Laura's voice was steady with resolve even as the fire in her eyes seemed to blaze out of control. "I'm never going to leave you. So you can leap over that edge safe in the knowledge that I'll be here to catch you. Just trust me. Trust yourself."

Shanoa grasped Laura's face in her hands and pulled her into another fevered kiss. She sighed as she was able to relax into the now familiar dance. She held onto her lover as the jeweler's fingers started to move again. The pleasurable tension returned and built in intensity as Laura's tongue slipped into her mouth.

_Let go._

She loved this woman, trusted her, _burned_ for her, and she was safe in her arms. Laura was here, and in that moment she was all that Shanoa wanted.

The air shifted and at once the warrior felt her lover everywhere. Laura's lips against her own, the jeweler's body held tight against hers, and the touch between her legs that carried Shanoa up and up as the once infernal heat became the most desirable feeling in the world.

"Yes, my love, let go." She felt Laura whisper the words against her lips, but she was too far gone to hear them. Shanoa cried out as she neared the apex of that release – so close now – and her hips absent-mindedly rocked into the motion of her lover's fingers. "Let go."

Laura's words undid her and Shanoa shuddered as she tumbled over the edge. She gasped as the release surged through her and for a few blissful seconds the warrior was aware of nothing else.

Her chest heaved when the wave receded. Laura's hand slowed, but her fingers did not cease their movement until Shanoa's breathing had returned to normal. At length she opened her eyes and saw Laura smiling down at her. The jeweler removed her hand from where it was nestled between Shanoa's legs and there was a devious glint in Laura's eyes as she raised her fingers to her lips. The younger woman noticed that they were covered in some kind of liquid, but she was too exhausted to inquire about it. She watched in silence as Laura licked them clean.

"Well, that wasn't what I expected," Shanoa said once her lover had finished.

"How so?"

"Things didn't go quite as smoothly as I've been led to believe." Laura chuckled and shook her head.

"Books tend to gloss over or omit some of the details when it comes to a character's first time." The jeweler shrugged. "I guess authors feel that anything other than blind passion is unromantic, but you were wonderful regardless of the few complications." Shanoa frowned.

"I didn't do much of anything."

"You did a hell of a lot. Sex is a vulnerable act, and in that regard it requires an immense amount of courage." The warrior's frown deepened as Laura missed the point of her comment.

"What I meant is that I didn't give you anything in return," she said. Laura made a sound of recognition and nodded.

"You did, actually."

"How?" The jeweler's expression had made clear her own lust, but Shanoa hadn't reciprocated her touch. How could the lack of physical stimulation be satisfying?

"It's a bit difficult to explain." Laura paused a moment. "Just being able to touch you and see you lose yourself in such an intimate way was enough for me. It might not make much sense without firsthand experience, but right now I'm more than satiated." Shanoa didn't fully grasp the concept, but Laura's assurance eased her mind.

"I'd like to try touching you next time." A blush tinted the warrior's cheeks.

"So there _will_ be a next time?" Laura asked with feigned surprise.

"Of course, but you're going to need to be patient. I don't think I have the fortitude to withstand that twice in a row."

"Not yet at any rate." The jeweler's smile turned positively wicked at the thought. Shanoa gaped at her lover.

"Are- are you scheming?"

"Maybe a little," Laura said with a wink. "I must say I'm excited about how much there is for me to teach you."

"I'm sure you are." Shanoa giggled. The jeweler leaned down and captured her lips in another kiss. Shanoa sighed in contentment as she melted into the embrace.

She had lost so much since the start of her great mission, but it paled in comparison to what she had gained. Perhaps God – or whatever righteous force constituted as such – had been with her all along. Perhaps it had guided a comradery of lost souls to a village where their lives could become whole. Perhaps it had dealt the cards that incited Laura to leave her childhood home in search of something that the world saw fit to deny her. Regardless of whatever hand the divine played in orchestrating the events that led Shanoa to this moment it was clear now, more than ever, that her struggle had not been in vain. It had taken blood, sweat, and tears, but she had found love. A love the likes of which she'd never imagined was possible, and Shanoa wanted to hold onto her forever.

"Thank you," the warrior whispered once they broke apart.

"For what?"

"For everything." Shanoa's eyes glistened with tears as she tried to contain the flood of emotion. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to find the words to express how much you mean to me or capture the full magnitude of what you've done." Laura was struck speechless for a moment before her face was awash in adoration.

"I know, because you've already shown me." Her gorgeous smile left no doubt to that fact. "Sometimes actions speak louder than words ever could."

"Good, as you know expressing my emotions isn't my strong suit," Shanoa said with a small grin.

"You're getting better." Laura rolled onto her side until she was lying next to her lover. Shanoa's smile widened as she wrapped the jeweler in a firm embrace. Her ears pricked up at a loud crash of thunder and she glanced over at the entrance to the cave.

"I forgot about the rain," the warrior muttered.

"Oh shit, you're right!" Laura started. There was a momentary pause before the cave was filled with the sound of their laughter.

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><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> this chapter was, to put it bluntly, a bitch to write. I have great respect and admiration for writers who can craft good sex scenes that avoid clichés. It is, in my opinion, one of the hardest challenges for a writer to face. Still, I always liked how this scene played out, but it was good to go back and polish up the writing. The revision process was more arduous than previous chapters, yet well worth it.

To echo my note in the original version, it's maddening to read romance stories (original works and fanfiction alike) that portray someone's first time having sex as the greatest experience of their life. In reality, having sex for the first time is, to some degree, an awkward and frustrating experience. However, that doesn't mean it lacks passion or is unromantic, but it can be a bit nerve-wracking for both parties. I tried to make this scene more realistic and believable by including the nervousness that (as Laura noted) so many authors omit.


	18. Purebred

**Author's note:** at long last, I present you with new content.

**If you skipped to this chapter it's imperative that you go back and read the note at the beginning of chapter one before you proceed.**

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><p>Chapter Eighteen<p>

_Purebred_

The storm raged past sundown and forced the women to spend the night in the cave. To their good fortune, by the time they woke up the next morning the inclement weather had cleared and left an expanse of blue sky overhead. They ate a quick breakfast, broke camp, and set out on the final leg of their journey.

Laura hardly spoke as they made their way back to the mountain trail. Shanoa noticed that a slight twitch had developed in the older woman's left eye, but the jeweler did not acknowledge the nervous tick. They walked a long stretch of the dirt road in silence before Shanoa decided to do something about her lover's disposition. She took one of the jeweler's hands in her own and gave it a comforting squeeze. Laura relaxed a bit at her silent assurance, but her body remained taut with tension.

"It'll be all right." Shanoa gave her an encouraging smile.

"That remains to be seen," the jeweler said with a frown, but did not let go of her hand.

It was a little past noon when Shanoa saw what appeared to be a building nestled amongst the trees. More structures popped out of the wilderness as they approached and Laura ground to a halt just as the warrior surmised that her eyes had not been playing tricks on her.

"We're here," Laura said in a detached voice.

The jeweler's tendency to refer to Baia as a "mountain village" was more revealing than Shanoa had realized. It was difficult to tell where the forest ended and the village began. The buildings were placed in accommodation with the surrounding trees rather than according to a man-made urban design. The Carpathian forest grew up to, around, and in-between the structures. The only place that was clear of plant life was the packed dirt road.

Baia appeared to be much older than Wygol village. The buildings were constructed of wooden supports and brick walls in varying hues of red and brown. The bricks were spotted with age and their surfaces worn down from years of exposure to the elements. Twisting green vines crawled up the sides of most buildings in sight. The plants latched onto the natural grooves of the bricks as they reached skyward.

There was a unique beauty to Baia. The village blended so naturally into the mountain forest that a passing traveler could easily miss its presence if they strayed from the trail. Laura was not quite so taken with the sight. She shuddered and her grip on Shanoa's hand tightened.

"I don't know if I can do this," she said in a shaky voice.

"Remember: it's just one small village."

"It's more than that." Laura's tone took on a bitter edge. "It's a cage inhabited by wretched creatures. Now that I'm standing here and looking at it for the first time in years it feels like every ounce of hatred I've harbored for this village is surfacing all at once."

"Things are different now." Shanoa gave her hand another squeeze. The jeweler took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A good deal of tension seemed to escape on her exhale and Laura's body relaxed a considerable amount.

"Yes, very different," she said with a small smile. "And yet…" Laura looked down at their joined hands. "It's still safer to hide." After a few moments of hesitation she let go of Shanoa's hand. Laura's fingers trailed across the warrior's skin as she silently begged to prolong the simple contact.

"We can hide it from the world or we can tell everyone we see. In the end it makes no difference." Shanoa cupped Laura's cheek and tilted her lover's head until their eyes met. "It doesn't change who we are or what we feel for each other. It doesn't change the fact that I love you." Laura gave her a warm smile and leaned into Shanoa's hand.

"I wish I had the courage to kiss you right now. Out here in the open for anyone to see."

"Someday you will, and, in turn, so will I." The warrior's heart swelled with confidence. Laura chuckled at her declaration.

"I'm curious to see which one of us gets there first," she said with a wistful grin.

Shanoa allowed herself a few moments of pride as she lost herself in the jeweler's enrapt expression. She could do this to Laura; take a few simple words spoken in honesty and stave off her lover's fears. It was not a permanent solution, but the effect she had on the older woman was undeniable.

She was the Blade to banish all evil, but the might of that role paled in comparison to how powerful Laura made her feel in that moment.

"_You fight the most difficult battle of all: the battle for people's souls. Compared to that, everything I've ever done – including facing Dracula – has been so simple."_

"_How is slaying the Dark Lord a simple feat?" Laura gave the younger woman a quizzical look._

"_Because what I hope to achieve is obvious: slay my enemy. It's the same goal every time I face an opponent. How I go about it varies each time, but that singular goal remains unchanged. I know a thousand different ways to take a life, but you're blessed with the knowledge of how to save one."_

Perhaps she was wrong about the nature of her own heart. Perhaps that same blessing had been hiding inside her all along.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see." Shanoa returned the grin with one of her own. "Now, we're going to walk through Baia, and we'll do so together." Laura nodded and turned to face their foe.

"In a cruel twist of fate my mother's house is on the opposite edge of the village. I can only pray that we don't run into anyone on the way." The jeweler took another deep breath and marched forward before she could formulate second thoughts. Shanoa followed at her side.

The first buildings they came across were residential. A few were decorated with some form of personal flair. One house in particular had flower boxes affixed below every window. Purple autumn crocuses were planted inside and bloomed despite the chill in the air. Clotheslines hung between the trees that grew near the buildings, but all of them were bare. One of the bigger homes had a porch built onto the side that faced the road. It was occupied by a middle-aged man with a scarf wrapped tight around his neck. He sat in an old chair, his feet propped up on the porch railing. There was a lit pipe in his mouth and every so often his face was obscured by a cloud of white smoke. He gave Shanoa a curious look as the women passed by. She saw his eyes lock onto her tattoos for a moment before he returned to his private musings.

"He didn't appear to recognize you," Shanoa said once they were out of earshot.

"Let's hope that trend continues." Laura glanced back in the man's direction. "On the other hand, he _did_ notice you."

"It's become quite evident that I stand out in a crowd." The warrior ran her fingers across the tattoo on her left arm. While she knew that she was not the only person in the world who bore such markings tattoos were uncommon enough for people to take significant note of her.

"Well, you do cut an exotic appearance, but that's one of the things I love about you," Laura said with an approving smile. "It just serves to add to your beauty."

"Would you still find me beautiful if I didn't look so 'exotic'?" She presented the question in a joking manner, but part of her sincerely wanted to know.

"I'd find you beautiful in any form." The expression on the jeweler's face did not leave any doubt in regards to her honesty. Shanoa was tempted to put that to the test by casting Arma Felix or Chiroptera, but she knew that their present environment called for a more subtle joke.

"What if I cut off most of my hair and became a nun?" Shanoa asked instead. "The Church would probably make me get a new wardrobe, too. I doubt I could get away with wearing this dress in a convent."

"That sounds like quite the dramatic change indeed, but as I said, I'd still find you beautiful." Laura took on a thoughtful expression. "On the other hand, if you became a nun that would require you to take a vow of celibacy. Now that is something that's too devastating to even think about." Shanoa laughed at her candid response.

"Well, it's a good thing I don't plan on implementing any of these changes. Otherwise all your scheming would go to waste."

"You'd be the most difficult nun." Laura joined in her lover's laughter. "They wouldn't even be able to get you to sit still during the daily rosary."

"Plus I'd constantly sneak out of the convent to go on adventures and fight evil," the warrior said with a sly grin.

"Can you imagine how people would react to the sight of a beautiful nun slaying a giant monster? Especially if she used weapons summoned out of thin air?" The mental image fed Laura's mirth. "The world would have quite a different outlook on nuns after that."

Their conversation lulled as they reached the center of town. The dirt road ended at the edge of an open space and was replaced by worn cobblestones that covered the village square. It was surrounded by various shops and a two storied tavern whose rear bordered the forest. Shanoa wondered if that was the same tavern Laura and Natasha had frequented, but she knew better than to bring up that memory while the jeweler was on edge. A tall, thick white birch tree grew in the middle of the square. The locals had placed a few wooden benches beneath the tree, but at the moment the seats were vacant.

They were not alone in the square. A group of three adults (two men and a woman) conversed outside a butcher's shop on the opposite side. A pair of young boys chased each other around the birch tree and tossed a leather ball back and forth between them. Another man was perched on a ladder in front of a shop to their left. He had a paint brush in one hand and was altering the sign that hung above the door.

Laura's gaze was fixed on the trio across from them. Her eyes narrowed and a slight grimace touched the corners of her mouth.

"Do you recognize them?" Shanoa asked, though the answer was obvious. The jeweler nodded tersely.

"It might be better if we turn back and cut through the woods. That way we don't risk them seeing-"

"LOOK OUT!"

Shanoa's hand shot up on instinct and she grabbed the ball in midair before it slammed into her face. She stared at the sphere in confusion for a moment. The energy of a Glyph hummed through her arm, but she quelled the urge to call upon it.

"Nice catch!" a high pitched voice said. Shanoa glanced down as a dark-haired boy ran up to them. His expression was an energetic mixture of awe and excitement. "I've never seen a girl do something like that!" The boy's mouth fell open. "Whoa, what are those marks on your arms?" Shanoa's eyes cut to her tattoos and she tried to come up with an appropriate, yet vague, response.

"They're… um…"

"They're birthmarks," Laura said, "she was born with them." Shanoa quickly nodded in agreement.

"I don't believe you!" The boy rolled his eyes. "I have a birthmark and it's just a brown blob. So what are they?" He stood on the balls of his feet in an attempt to get a closer look at the tattoos. "Are they magic? I bet they're magic!"

"Christopher!" A woman's voice carried across the square.

"Shit," Laura said under her breath. The woman who had been standing outside the butcher's marched towards them at a brisk pace. She was quite pretty, though the scowl she wore offset the soft curves of her cheeks and lips. The woman's blue eyes, in turn, were hardened in disapproval. Her light blonde hair was fashioned into a pleated braid that hung over her shoulder. Shanoa guessed that she was around the same age as Laura, and that realization brought an uncomfortable question to her mind.

_Is she..?_

"How many times have I told you to watch where you throw that ball? Now stop bothering the poor woman and-" The blonde gasped when her eyes fell on the jeweler. "You!"

"Yes, me," Laura said with a scowl of her own. There was a long beat of silence as the two women attempted to stare each other down. Open hostility roiled in the air between them while Shanoa and the boy stood awkwardly off to the side. The warrior handed the ball to him and he took it without comment.

"Go back to your game, Christopher," the blonde said without breaking her glare. The boy cast a mournful glance at Shanoa and frowned.

"But-"

"Do I need to repeat myself?" she asked in an icy tone.

"No, mother," he said in dejection and ran off to rejoin his friend. The woman waited until her son was out of earshot.

"So, the prodigal whore returns," the blonde said at last.

"Pot calling the kettle black, I see." Laura's response was almost instantaneous. "You haven't changed at all." The woman sneered and glanced at the jeweler's clothes.

"And you look like you've been rolling around in the forest. Though, I have to admit, I'm not surprised in the least. No matter how much you groom your exterior you're still a mongrel underneath."

"Pardon?" The word left Shanoa's mouth in shock. The blonde's eyes cut to the warrior. Her gaze was cold and judgmental.

"And what do we have here?" There was a hint of intrigue in her voice, but it could not be classified as welcoming.

"Shanoa, this is Christina." Laura made the introductions. The warrior nodded.

"Of course, I've heard." Shanoa paused. "_Wonderful_ things."

"I'm sure you have." Christina did not appear to be concerned by the implication in the warrior's words. The blonde was preoccupied with studying this new arrival. "Well, I see the freaks like to cavort with other freaks. You always did like the wild ones, Laura. So tell me." Christina looked into Shanoa's eyes; the blonde's irises danced with an ugly brand of mirth. "How many times has she fucked you?"

Shanoa gaped at the woman's gall, but Laura's tongue was quicker to counter with a reply.

"It's nice to see Christopher again," the jeweler said. "He's got to be, what, five years old? I remember when he was just an infant. His hair was lighter back then, but now it's a deep brunette." A perplexed look formed on Laura's face and she stroked her chin. "Come to think of it, that does seem rather strange. You and Felix both have blonde hair, so I wonder why your son's hair would be dark brown."

"Excuse me?" Christina's eyes cut to Laura, but Shanoa caught a brief glimpse of worry overtake the cruel mirth.

"The interesting thing is that Trevor has hair like Christopher's. In fact, now that the boy's grown up a bit I can see quite a resemblance between the two." Laura didn't bother to suppress the satisfied smirk that formed on her lips. There was a low growl in the blonde's throat.

"Just what are you implying?"

"All I'm saying, Christina, is that if you want to play the bitch game I'm more than well prepared to take you on. The only difference is that everyone in this town already knows my secret." Laura glanced over at the two men that the blonde had been conversing with. "I wonder how they'd react to yours." Christina's mouth moved wordlessly for a few moments as her face flushed with silent fury. The blonde at last settled on an indignant huff and stalked away. Shanoa stared after her in bewilderment.

"I can see why you avoid this place," the warrior said.

"Christina's more of an annoyance than anything else. She just acts like that because I stopped putting up with people's bullshit a long time ago." Laura shrugged. "She's all bark and no bite."

The jeweler gave her lover's arm a slight tug and they quickly made their way across the square. Christina had rejoined her companions by the butcher's and the trio stared at the women as they walked past. Laura ignored them, but Shanoa was loath to let their scrutiny go unchallenged. The warrior met their gaze, each in turn. Both men looked away, but Christina glowered at Shanoa's confidence. She held the blonde's gaze until they reached the opposite side and strode onto the continuation of the dirt road.

"So you don't think she'll say anything?" Shanoa asked once they had put the trio behind them.

"She just wanted to make sure that I know that she knows; if that makes any sense," Laura said with a slight smirk. "Now that I've shown her my hand she won't give us any trouble, but this could be the first of many such confrontations. Christina won't reveal the nature of our relationship, but she'll still spread the word that I've returned." Shanoa nodded, but could not dispute the foreboding implication of the villagers' initial reception to their presence. Baia was the polar opposite of Wygol's inviting atmosphere. She hoped that the trend would not continue, but they needed to determine a course of action in case it did.

"How do you want me to react if people starting giving us trouble?" Shanoa asked. "This community has given you enough grief, and I'm livid over what they did to you, but you still have family here. I don't want to overstep my bounds and cause unnecessary complications."

"I doubt you could make things worse even if you tried," the jeweler said in a wry tone.

"I'm not so sure about that. I'm a stranger with an unusual appearance. If these people somehow learn about my abilities it could incite backlash. I don't want a repeat of the incident on the ferry."

_Laura's concerned voice had drawn her out of the satisfaction of the moment and Shanoa immediately recognized what had caused the jeweler to intervene. The other passengers had gathered around them to watch the fight, but they were not amused or entertained. Their eyes reflected a mixture of disbelief and innate fear. Shanoa hesitated as Hector whimpered beneath her. Were these people afraid of her?_

_The warrior pushed herself off the coward and stood up. She questioned whether or not it was wise to dispel Melio Secare in front of the terrified onlookers. Her blood ran cold when she heard someone whisper the word "witch"._

The jeweler nodded in understanding. Laura was quiet for a minute as she determined the best response to her lover's question.

"It's true that we should be cautious about public knowledge concerning your Glyphs, but this is different than what happened on the ferry," the jeweler said with a grim expression. "This battle can't be won through physical force alone. If these people try to cause trouble we may need to have fear on our side. If such a situation arises then I trust whatever course of action you decide to take."

"What if it's not the right course?" Shanoa asked.

"I don't think you'd make the wrong decision. You instinctively fight against any falsehood you bear witness to, whether or not you realize it." Laura gave her a confident smile. "So far that instinct hasn't led us astray. I doubt it'll fail us now, especially in a place that reeks of deceit." Shanoa returned her lover's smile.

"Your faith in me is encouraging."

"I'm just returning the favor." Laura paused to chuckle. "Again."

"Still, I hope I don't have to make that decision."

"So do I." Laura's smile faded as her tension once again became evident. Something caught the jeweler's eye and she pointed to a lone, two-story house at the far end of the road. "There it is."

The building was immediately distinguishable due to the fact that it was the only house not flanked on all sides by the forest. Instead it was built on the edge of a natural clearing. Someone had taken advantage of the open space and planted rows of flowers all around the house. Shanoa was struck by the lavish display of autumnal blossoms. Blocks of bright orange dahlias were interspersed with lines of gold and pink chrysanthemums. Even the vines that grew up the sides of the building's gray brick walls were dotted with deep purple clematis flowers. The warrior was inclined to believe that the vines were an intentional addition instead of the wild fare that was common in the village. All of the plants appeared to be well cared for. The bright colors of the flowers in conjunction with the backdrop of trees bearing their autumn hues made the entire scene look like a vision right out of a painting.

"My mother adores flowers," Laura said as she took note of her lover's surprised expression. A flash of movement near the back of the house caught Shanoa's eye. The warrior turned in time to see a large dog bound towards them before the animal leapt headlong into Laura. "Omph!" The jeweler gasped as the dog almost knocked her to the ground. "Jesus, you've gotten even heavier!" Her voice was strained as she fought to stay upright. "How is that possible?"

The dog rose up on its hind legs with a bark and gave Laura what Shanoa could only describe as a giant hug. The animal threw its forelegs over the jeweler's shoulders and proceeded to lick her on the lips. Shanoa managed to stifle her laughter as Laura's expression deteriorated into one of immense distress.

"Stop it you slobbery beast!" The jeweler tried to push the animal off of her, but it held fast.

"It looks like someone's missed you."

"He's also forgotten his manners," Laura said with a frown, yet she surrendered to the dog's affections and scratched the back of his neck. He did not stop until he licked every inch of Laura's face. The jeweler breathed a sigh of relief as she helped him to the ground. Even on all fours the dog was tall enough for his head to reach Laura's waist. His attention turned to the warrior and he cocked his head to the side. "Fenris, this is Shanoa."

He was a beautiful creature with long fur in varying shades of brown, white, and gray. His bright blue eyes were transfixed on the warrior as he stalked cautiously towards her. Shanoa smiled and held out her hand to the dog. Fenris sniffed it before he slid his head underneath her palm. The warrior's smile grew wider as she scratched behind his ears.

"He warmed up to you quickly." Laura's tone betrayed a hint of amazement as she watched the pair interact.

"Is that unusual?"

"Fenris tends to be apprehensive around strangers. He must have sensed that you and I are close."

"What kind of dog is he?" The warrior's hand moved under Fenris' chin.

"We're not entirely sure, but he seems to be a mixture of a Carpathian Shepherd Dog and a wolf, hence his name." Shanoa gave Laura a confused look. "Fenris is the famous wolf from Norse mythology."

"I see," the younger woman said with a nod. "He's a bit too friendly for a wolf, though. Where did you find him?"

"It'd be more accurate to say that Fenris found us. My mother saw him scavenging near the house when he was just a puppy. He was frightfully thin, and since it hadn't been that long since my father…" Laura trailed off with a frown. "Well, she was quick to come to his rescue. They've been nigh inseparable ever since. If he's outside that probably means she's in the backyard."

Fenris bounded alongside them as they walked around to the back of the house. Rows of firewood were stacked against the rear wall and briefly obscured Shanoa's line of sight as they turned the corner. A large garden surrounded by a split-rail fence took up almost all of the open space provided by the clearing. It overflowed with herbs and large vegetables that were almost ready to harvest. A lone woman stood amidst the abundance of plant life. Her back was to the pair as she tilled the soil with a hoe.

"Mother," Laura said in a loud voice. The woman paused at the word. After a few moments she straightened and turned around.

Laura's mother was much younger than Shanoa had anticipated. The woman didn't look a day over forty, though a few lines had begun to creep into her face. Shanoa was struck by the familial resemblance between the two. They shared many of the same facial features, but what set them apart was the older woman's darker, tanned skin tone. Laura had also inherited her mother's brown curly hair, but the latter had cut it off just past her shoulders. The woman's eyes were a vibrant green, and while her expression was for the most part indiscernible they betrayed her shock at the sight of her daughter. She wore a pale green and tan dress that was splotched with dirt stains, yet she carried a refined air about her. In those brief moments of silence it became evident to Shanoa just where Laura's beauty had come from.

"Laura…" the woman said in bewilderment before her jaw set in disapproval. "Three years."

"I know," the jeweler said in a flat tone.

"Three years without a word."

"I know." Laura's voice wavered a bit on the second word.

"And now you're here." The woman made a hopeless sound. "I want to be overjoyed, but I know you didn't come back just to visit."

"I'm here because my friend needs your help." Laura turned her head towards the warrior.

"I see." The woman rested her hoe against the fence and exited the garden through a nearby gate. She took a moment to wipe her dirty hands on the front of her dress. A warm smile formed on her face as she walked over to Shanoa. "Forgive my sour disposition, I'm forgetting my manners." The woman held out her hand. "My name is Tatiana, and you are?"

"Shanoa," the warrior said with a small grin as she shook Tatiana's hand. The woman's smile brightened.

"Shanoa? That's a lovely name, it's quite unique." Tatiana's gaze cut back to Laura. The jeweler maintained a stoic expression, but her rigid posture relayed her tension. "I hope my daughter hasn't been giving you too much trouble."

"Not at all," Shanoa said with a slight shake of her head. "I'm the one who attracts all the trouble. Laura helps me clean up afterwards."

"I see." For a brief moment the warrior saw the turbulent emotions in Tatiana's eyes replaced by loving adoration. Laura gave no indication that she noticed the shift, but it struck a chord deep within Shanoa. She had seen a similar look somewhere before, but where? "Well, I suppose we should go inside before we discuss why you're here." Tatiana lowered her voice. "Privacy can be hard to come by in this village."

Shanoa wondered what she meant until she heard Fenris growl. His ears were laid back against his head and his eyes fixated on the row of trees across from them. The warrior followed his gaze and caught a brief flash of movement amongst the foliage. Tatiana gave the dog a grateful scratch behind his ears. It dawned on Shanoa that the gap between her house and the rest of the village was placed there on purpose.

Tatiana led them through a back door and into a kitchen. It was stocked with fresh herbs and vegetables that Shanoa presumed had come from the garden. Wood cabinets and a raised counter were built against the wall to their right. Across from the door stood a large iron stove with a collection of pots and pans hung up on hooks affixed to the wall above it. A wood table surrounded by four chairs was placed in the center of the kitchen. Laura closed the door behind them once everyone was inside.

"Now it's safe for us to talk," Tatiana said. "I assume this visit has something to do with my skills as a healer?" Laura nodded.

"Shanoa's been branded by Dark magic."

"I see. How long ago did it happen?" Tatiana's voice had taken on a formal tone similar to one a doctor would use when assessing a patient. Laura's mouth opened and closed before she gave her lover a questioning look. Shanoa paused when she too realized there was no way she could give an accurate answer. At what point during those two weeks did she battle Blackmore?

"I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but it's been at least a month," the warrior said at last.

"That's quite a long time to let it go untreated," Tatiana said with a frown. "It could prove problematic depending on the strength of the brand. Where is it located?"

"It wraps around the left side of my torso." Shanoa indicated the area in question with her hand.

"I'll need to examine the brand, of course."

"Whatever helps," the warrior said with a nod.

"Let's go into the living room," Tatiana said. "The light is better in there." Some sheer purple curtains hung in the doorway that connected the kitchen to the rest of the house. Tatiana held them open for her guests as they passed through.

The living room was just beyond and Shanoa was immediately struck by its size. It was a two-story room, an architectural feature she'd never seen used in a home before. A high ceiling was usually reserved for public buildings or fortresses such as the one that housed Ecclesia. A staircase to her left ascended to an upper balcony that looked out over the rest of the room. The high ceiling ended at the entrance to a hallway on her right, presumably to accommodate the rooms on the second floor.

It became apparent why Tatiana had said the light was better in the living room. Large windows were installed in the ceiling and their unobstructed view of the sky allowed a copious amount of sunlight to shine through. Some long shelves spanned the length of the right wall with a massive collection of books stacked from end to end. A glass front stove stood against the wall across from her, though this one appeared to be utilized for heat rather than cooking. It was unlit at the moment, but the sight of it stirred Shanoa's memory.

_Wood burned in a glass front stove on the opposite side of the room; the flames gave off just enough light for her to see the shadowy forms of two figures as they grappled before it. Laura could not make out any facial details, but she could tell by their build that both figures were male._

Shanoa glanced at her lover, but Laura did not display any indication of duress. The jeweler's expression remained cemented in forced apathy.

In front of the stove stood two plush couches arranged around a low table. The couches were covered in deep blue fabric and supported by wood framing dyed a dark brown tone. A sculpture was placed in the center of the table and Shanoa's eyes widened when she recognized the object. She had seen its twin in Laura's room.

_It was a vase that held two jeweled lilies. The former was constructed from linked strands of gold and silver wire. The gold strings in particular had been manipulated to form the image of a tree upon the silver surface of the vase. The lilies' petals were a collage of various gemstones set into a silver base. The colors of the jewels held a consistent hue for each flower. One blossom shone with a deep pink radiance while the other emitted a bright orange glow as the sunlight caught and danced within the precious stones. The stems of the flowers were made from swirling green glass; the rods anchored them inside the vase._

The two pieces were identical with the exception of the lilies. The flowers in this vase were studded with yellow and purple gemstones. For the first time, Shanoa wondered who made the sculptures.

"You can set your packs down on the floor," Tatiana said. "They must feel heavy after such a long journey." The healer motioned to an open spot next to one of the couches and the younger women complied with her suggestion. Shanoa placed her pack on the ground before she carefully unstrapped the harness that held the black bow and quiver. She had handled the weapon with caution throughout the trip, and though she had no need of it once her Glyphs returned Laura maintained her strict aversion to the bow. Tatiana gasped when Shanoa presented the weapon.

"You brought it with you?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Laura said curtly as she dropped her pack next to Shanoa's.

"I thought you'd have gotten rid of it by now." The jeweler tensed at her mother's comment.

"I did sell it, but I'll never be rid of the damn thing."

"Thank God," Tatiana whispered. Laura's jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed, but she did not offer a rebuttal.

The warrior held out the weapon, but Tatiana did not move to claim it. A few awkward moments passed as Shanoa wondered what to do with the bow before she set it down on the table next to the sculpture. The healer's gaze never left the weapon. Her eyes clouded with longing, yet she remained frozen in place until the bow was out of Shanoa's hands. Tatiana cleared her throat and beckoned the warrior to her.

"Now, the light is best over here." Tatiana grasped Shanoa's arms and positioned her directly beneath one of the overhead windows. "We'll begin whenever you're ready." The warrior unstrapped her leather breast piece and handed it to Laura, but hesitated when she reached for the bow at the base of her neck.

"Is it all right if I turn around for a moment?" Shanoa asked as a blush tinted her cheeks.

"Of course," Tatiana said with a smile.

The warrior turned and untied the bow. She rolled the bodice of her dress down to her hips in a now familiar process. Once that was done she slung her hair over her right shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. Tatiana made a puzzled sound when she received her first look at the black marks.

"That's interesting," the healer said under her breath.

"What is?" A spark of fear ignited in Shanoa's chest.

"Brands like these are quite rare due to the large amount of concentrated magic it takes to permanently mark a person. The person who cast this spell was no amateur."

"Permanently?" The warrior's fear flared at the word. "You mean there's no way to-?"

"Don't worry, I have the ability to remove it," Tatiana said in a reassuring tone. "I am curious, though, about how you received the brand. There's also no denying the magical properties of your unique tattoos." The healer walked around Shanoa until they were face to face. The older woman's eyes were inquisitive and a touch protective as they met the warrior's. "Just who are you?"

"Mother," Laura said in protest.

"It's all right." Shanoa matched Tatiana's gaze. She felt no reason to hide her identity from this woman. "To put it simply: I am Ecclesia's Blade. I was trained under the pretense that I would be the one to destroy Dracula's vessel."

"So Barlowe succeeded in his task," Tatiana said with a frown. Shanoa gaped at her in surprise.

"You know of Barlowe?"

"Abel and I hid from the world, but we were ever watchful." Tatiana shook her head. "We've tracked the Order's movements ever since they were granted custody of the idol, yet we never imagined that they'd find the means to release him. When I felt the dimensional tear I feared Dracula's return, but I did not expect that to be the reason why."

"I attempted to thwart Barlowe's plan when I discovered his true intentions, but I failed." Shanoa's tone made evident her pervasive shame on that matter. "When I resisted he sacrificed his own life to destroy the vessel. Ecclesia had trained me well, though. Their goal was to ensure that I had the fortitude to wield Dominus, but in doing so they also made me strong enough to slay their Lord."

"You went into that castle," Tatiana stated rather than asked.

"Yes, while I was inside I battled with a man named Blackmore. He had the power to manipulate his shadow into the form of a great beast. The creature managed to trap me in its jaws and left the brand behind."

"Did it hurt?"

"Not that I can remember."

"I see." Tatiana knelt down to get a closer look at the teeth marks. She studied them for a time before she raised her arms. A white light sprouted from the center of her palms and spread until it encompassed her hands in a dazzling aura. The healer passed them over the brand. She did not touch Shanoa's skin, but the warrior felt the hum of magical enemy emanate from the white light. Everyone, including Fenris, remained silent as Tatiana performed her inspection. After a few minutes of intense concentration the healer spoke.

"The good news is that the brand doesn't seem to have caused any irreparable damage," she said. "Its effects are localized and will vanish once the brand itself is removed. The magic that comprises the marks thankfully does not run deep. Most of the afflicted area is superficial and doesn't extend to your internal organs." The white aura faded as Tatiana lowered her hands and stood up. She had trouble maintaining her balance as she rose, but steadied herself with relative ease. The healer looked at Shanoa with a slight frown. "The bad news is that you were wounded when the beast bit you. The magic of the brand immediately cauterized the wound which explains why you didn't feel any pain."

"What does that mean?" Shanoa asked.

"The brand has halted your body's natural healing process. It's keeping you from bleeding out, but once removed the wound will present itself. This means it will behave the same as a fresh injury."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Laura said as she walked into the warrior's line of sight. "You can mend it." Tatiana closed her eyes with an exasperated sigh.

"I can't guarantee that."

"Why not?" the jeweler asked.

"You've seen me perform this ritual before. Removing a Dark brand requires an immense amount of mana. I may not have any reserves to call upon once I'm finished."

"Then we'll have to rely on more conventional methods," Laura said in agitation. Tatiana gave her daughter a look of profound disappointment, though it lacked even a shred of surprise.

"So you've given up on my lessons as well." The healer's voice echoed with a hollow acceptance. Laura's shoulders tensed and her jaw set in indignation.

"We're not talking about this." Her tone carried a sharp warning.

"Then when will we talk about it?"

"Never," Laura said with finality.

"You ran away from your father, from Baia, even from me-"

"All of my choices are justified." The jeweler's voice rose in anger.

"But is it worth the cost?" Frustration broke through Tatiana's restraint and she pointed at Shanoa. "Will it be worth it when you see her suffer from an affliction you have the power to mend? Will you be able to justify it then?" Laura's expression hardened into a show of defiance.

"I have no use for magic," she said. Tatiana did not shirk away from her daughter's anger. Instead she met it in full force.

"But the people you care about do."

Laura fumed at Tatiana's statement, but offered no rebuttal. Her amber eyes clouded with something that appeared to be uncertainty and they cut to the black bow. After a moment of hesitation the jeweler marched over to the table and snatched up both the weapon and quiver. Laura bolted from the room and into the kitchen before Shanoa or Tatiana had the opportunity to react. The warrior heard the back door open followed by a loud slam that reverberated throughout the house. Shanoa stared after her lover in surprise.

"I'm an idiot," Tatiana said in a whisper. "I'll never get through to her like this." Shanoa took the opportunity to pull her bodice back into place and retied the bow. She turned around to face the healer.

"What did you mean when you said that Laura had given up on your lessons?" the warrior asked. Tatiana gave her a perplexed look.

"She didn't tell you?" Shanoa shook her head and a smirk formed on the healer's lips. "I guess that's not too surprising. She's tried to bury so many things. You see, Laura inherited my family's affinity for Holy magic. Her abilities aren't as strong as mine, but still quite impressive. I've tried to teach her to harness her gift, yet Laura's always met me with resistance." Tatiana's face fell and Shanoa was struck by the heavy remorse in her expression. "Whenever I make an attempt to discuss it she just pushes me farther away. Still, that was not the right way to address the issue."

Laura had propped the warrior's leather breast piece against her pack. Shanoa retrieved it and strapped the armor into its usual place over her chest. She studied Tatiana's face as she performed the reflexive action. The healer's expression was rife with turbulent, angry emotions, yet they were offset by a sorrowful acceptance in her eyes. There was something familiar about the woman, but its source did not lie in her physical similarity to her daughter. It first occurred to Shanoa when they exchanged introductions and that feeling of recognition had grown as she watched Tatiana and Laura interact. What was she reminded of?

Shanoa's breath caught in her throat as she realized the answer to that question.

_She looks like Albus._

The warrior remembered the look in her brother's eyes when he watched her absorb the two pieces of Dominus. Back then she lacked the insight to comprehend what she saw in that expression, but now she understood what it was: the weight of a terrible secret, one that demanded immense sacrifice. Albus was forced to hide his motivations from her and in the end it cost him his life. Tatiana was hiding something from Laura, and so far the cost had been evident.

"You need to tell her," Shanoa said beside herself.

"Excuse me?" Tatiana's brows knit together in confusion. The warrior was taken aback by her own brash comment, but she stood on the cusp of an issue that would likely go unacknowledged if she kept quiet.

"You need to tell Laura whatever it is you're hiding from her," Shanoa said in a steady voice. "If you insist on keeping it a secret it will tear your relationship apart until there's nothing left to salvage." Tatiana started at the warrior's blunt observation.

"I-" For a brief moment defiant anger flared up in the healer's eyes, but it was almost immediately drowned out by silent admittance. There was a long pause and Shanoa's heart raced as she waited for the older woman to respond. "How long have you known my daughter?"

"Just over six months."

"And do you love her?" Tatiana asked. The healer's eyes were devoid of judgment or disapproval. She did not present the question as an accusation, and Shanoa felt overwhelming relief when she realized she was free to be honest with the woman.

"I love her with all my heart."

"And what are you willing to sacrifice in order to protect her?" Tatiana's argument was just as familiar as her struggle. Shanoa had faced this speech on martyrdom many times before.

"If her safety comes at the cost of our relationship then the price is too high," the warrior said. "We can justify it however we wish, but our drive to protect the people we love can blind us to the pain we cause them in return. This blindness is what makes such sacrifices so selfish, because we stop doing it for the sake of someone else and instead pursue this agenda in order to satisfy our own sense of duty. It's easy to say that this pain is better than some hypothetical alternative, but the fact remains that we're hurting the people we love."

"_You can't keep doing this! You'll destroy yourself!" Her face twisted in a combination of rage, sorrow, and intense fear. "You can find other, less dangerous ways to become stronger. Let me be the one to bear Glyphs; that's my role to fulfill." Albus shook his head and looked at her with a fire in his eyes._

"_What… kind of brother would I be… if I didn't protect you? That's… MY role."_

"_That doesn't make this the right course of action! That doesn't give you a reason to kill yourself while trying to protect me from a duty that I gladly accept!" Albus reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand._

"_You are the Blade, and I must be strong enough to stand at the side of someone as powerful as you. I must be able to defeat any enemy that you might fall prey to. I made a vow, remember? I will not fail to uphold it."_

"_You can't protect me if you're dead!" Shanoa began to cry as she pulled her shivering brother into a tight embrace. "Please stop this! I couldn't bear to lose you because you were acting as my shield. I couldn't live with myself."_

Shanoa allowed the painful emotions stirred by the memory to play across her face. Albus was so stubborn and determined, but she still loved his every flaw.

"You're not trusting Laura's strength if you continue to hide this from her. If you don't trust her to understand your struggle it will only serve to perpetuate the rift between you. She's strong enough, Tatiana." Shanoa's heart swelled with confidence. "She's stronger than anyone I've ever met."

Tatiana was silent for a long time. The healer's expression remained, for the most part, unreadable, but there were moments where her mask faltered and Shanoa caught a glimpse of immense conflict.

"You're young, but you see a lot," the older woman said at last.

"My heart can't abide a lie." Shanoa gave her a warm smile. "Sometimes I don't recognize a falsehood until it's too late, but I'm determined to never let that happen again. However, this isn't my battle to fight. I can try to push both of you in the right direction, but the decision to act is yours alone." The warrior felt it was a pertinent note to end on and turned towards the kitchen to go in search of Laura.

"Who do I remind you of?" Shanoa paused at Tatiana's question.

"… My brother."

"He must have loved you very much," the healer said in an affectionate tone. Shanoa swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat.

"More than anything." The sound of the warrior's regret pierced through the air. She and Albus could have found a way to stop Barlowe together, but she couldn't change the past.

Shanoa left Tatiana to ponder her words. She made her way to the back door and walked outside. Laura had not gone far and stood just a few paces away. The quiver was slung across her back and she gripped the black bow in her hands. Shanoa watched in silence as the jeweler notched an arrow on the string of the bow. Laura raised the weapon and drew the string back in the same fluid motion. Her breathing steadied as she took aim at a white birch tree on the opposite end of the yard.

Laura grew completely still before she released the arrow with a twang. The projectile whizzed through the air and landed on target. Shanoa had to squint to see them, but a small collection of arrows jutted from the trunk. They were grouped so close together that their fletching brushed up against each other. Laura lowered the bow, but her body grew tense again as she retrieved another arrow from the quiver.

"It's so natural," she said without looking at Shanoa. "My body never forgot." Laura notched the arrow on the string, drew back in perfect form, aimed, and released. It landed in the center of the group. The jeweler scoffed and tossed the bow away in disgust.

"It doesn't matter how much time passes or how far I run. There's no denying how natural this is," Laura said in a voice devoid of emotion as she grabbed a third arrow. "Because I was born for this; solely for this."

"Laura," Shanoa said in a comforting tone.

The jeweler ignored her as she rested the arrow head against the palm of her left hand. After a brief pause Laura dug the point into her skin and tore open a jagged cut across its surface. Shanoa watched her in bewilderment, but started towards her lover when blood began to pour out of the wound.

"Wait." She halted at the command in Laura's voice. The jeweler threw away the arrow as blood pooled in her open hand. Her entire body stilled in a type of concentration akin to the focus that consumed her when she drew a bow.

A white light sprouted from Laura's right hand and spread to encompass the appendage in a glowing aura. The jeweler trembled as she brought it to hover over the cut. Tendrils of light emerged from the aura and sought out her rendered flesh. They penetrated Laura's skin, but she did not display any sign of pain as they sewed the wound shut. The jeweler let out a ragged cry once the wound was closed and the white light dispersed with a flash as she collapsed in sudden exhaustion. Shanoa caught her before she fell to the ground and the warrior held Laura up in her arms.

"Even that… used to be so easy… and could be again." Laura's chest heaved as she gasped for air. "Everything was connected, Shanoa. An adept healer could mend her injuries even in the throes of battle. She could be… almost unstoppable…"

"Laura-"

"That's why he chose her! He wanted his Belmont children to inherit her magic, and she consented to it!" A strangled cry escaped the jeweler's throat. "I was not born, I was bred. It's as simple as that. I was bred to be the perfect hunter. I was bred in the same way a rich man might breed a racehorse, just like a damn animal." Laura choked on another sob. "I can spend my whole life denying what I am, but that doesn't change a thing. It's still so natural."

"You are what you choose to be," Shanoa said in a confident tone, but Laura continued undeterred.

"I could have saved that buck. I could have removed the arrow and healed his wounds. I could have brought all of them back from the brink of death, but I didn't." The jeweler shook her head. "I chose not to, because in a way I am that perfect hunter, and that somehow meant my life was worth more than others, but why? I lie, I cheat, I swear, I fuck, I… sin. Just like everybody else. So how am I worth more than Jonathan or the burglar?"

Laura laughed, but it was a hollow sound devoid of even the mere traces of mirth.

"Except I'm not; it's just my blood. It's _what_ I am, not _who_ I am. Who I am holds no value compared to the mantle that I inherited. My heart could wither and die, but so long as the Belmont lineage was preserved it would be a justifiable loss. That's why they never fought for me. 'Laura' doesn't matter, but what she is…" The jeweler trailed off as her sorrow threatened to overwhelm her.

"Laura matters." Shanoa lowered them to the ground as the older woman sagged under the weight of her words. Laura shuddered again, but she had yet to cry. The warrior held her in a tight embrace. "She's the woman I love, not the Belmont hunter or the healer. It's _who_ you are that captivates me. You proved to me that there's more to my identity than a title. If it's true for me then it's also true for you."

"She wants me to be that perfect hunter."

"She wants you to be her daughter. That much is clear to me."

"What if you're wrong?" Uncertainty permeated Laura's voice.

"I'm not," Shanoa said without a hint of doubt.

"Then why would she reject who I am?"

"I don't think she's rejecting you. I think she's just as conflicted as you are." Shanoa ran a comforting hand through her lover's hair. "You said that Baia was full of deception, and Tatiana is no different." Laura leaned back and gave the warrior a quizzical look.

"What do you mean?"

"She's hiding something from you. I could tell from the moment I first laid eyes on her." Shanoa's expression softened. "Do not misunderstand, her intentions are pure. She's trying to protect you from this secret, but it's feeding the rift between you. I just hope that, should she choose to break her silence, you'll be willing to listen to her." Laura frowned as she contemplated the warrior's revelation. Shanoa waited a few minutes in silence before the older woman sighed in defeat.

"What do I have to lose? It's not like things can get any worse between us." The jeweler's face had been drained of its usual liveliness. Her amber eyes dulled with despair. "But, regardless of what she says, it can't change the past."

"I know. It won't justify the burden she helped place on you, but I promised that I'd help you cast it off." Shanoa held her lover's gaze. "You taught me that sense of freedom requires acceptance and understanding. We can't achieve either of those with the tension between you two."

"It's amazing how much you've grown during these past few weeks." The first hint of a small smile touched Laura's lips.

"I had an excellent guide," Shanoa said with the broad smile that Laura could not bring herself to muster. "You already know what it takes to mend a broken soul."

The jeweler's expression remained apprehensive despite Shanoa's confidence. An influx of boldness spurred the warrior to action. She leaned forward and kissed the woman she loved. It didn't matter that they were outside in full view of anyone who might have sought to spy on them. Shanoa wasn't afraid of Baia or the Belmont family secrets.

Laura started in surprise when their lips made contact. After a few moments Shanoa broke the kiss; her broad smile remained plastered on her face. The jeweler gaped at her.

"Well, that didn't take long," Laura said once she overcame her initial shock. A spark of life returned to her expression and she chuckled at Shanoa's abrasiveness. "I may need that confidence depending on what my mother says."

"And you'll have it," the warrior said with a nod. Laura made a contented sound before she sighed again and rose to her feet. Shanoa followed suit and watched as the jeweler's gaze found its way back to the discarded bow. The younger woman bent down and retrieved the weapon. "It's important to her." She paused. "_He _was important to her."

"Yes…" Laura turned to face the back door. "Perhaps, at long last, she'll tell me why."

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> I held off on releasing this chapter until I finished the re-writing process. I've actually been sitting on it for a long time.

I keep saying somewhere around six months has passed since the beginning of the game and the events of this story. There's nothing in the source material to suggest how long it took for Shanoa to complete her quest, but the sheer extent of her search for Albus (including how many areas you visit) implicate it was a massive undertaking. I determined that half a year was a realistic estimate.

The properties of healing magic are also of my own design. It's not a subject that I've seen covered in the franchise so it was another element I had to fill in.

And I threw in a reference to Judgment. I still can't believe I did that.


	19. The Price of Blood

**Author's note:** it's encouraging to receive such a warm response to my long-overdue return. Thank you to everyone who left a review or sent me a message. I'm glad to see that people haven't forgotten about my pet project.

* * *

><p>Chapter Nineteen<p>

_The Price of Blood_

The tight knot that had settled deep in Laura's stomach threatened to bring the jeweler to her knees as she walked back into the house. She did not doubt Shanoa's assessment of her mother. The more she thought about what the warrior had said the more sense it made in regards to Tatiana's behavior throughout, well, most of Laura's life.

Her mother had always seemed afraid of something, but the jeweler couldn't give a definitive answer as to what. In years past, whenever Laura caught the glint of fear in Tatiana's eyes she assumed its origin lay in the idea that the woman was, to an extent, afraid of her husband. Now, however, Laura was not so sure. Tatiana held Abel in too high regard for her to have feared him. Even after all this time the woman still loved him and his memory.

So what was Tatiana afraid of? More importantly, did she want to know the answer to that question? There was no guarantee that her mother would even be inclined to heed Shanoa's advice. For a moment the jeweler dared to hope that Tatiana would refuse. At least silence would spare her any grief over the matter.

Laura shook her head at the thought. What closure would silence bring? What would it mend?

She could not deny that fact. Silence would perpetuate the rift between them, but Laura was terrified that the truth would make it even worse. No explanation could validate how worthless her parents had made her feel, yet she'd failed to find the means to heal on her own.

Laura stumbled and fell against the kitchen table as she walked past. She could not remember the last time she'd cast a spell and her body continued to protest the use of magic. Shanoa rushed to her side, but the jeweler shook her head. She gripped the edges of the table as she steadied herself.

"I'm fine," the jeweler said. Her lover hesitated for a moment before she nodded.

"Don't push yourself too much."

"This is almost embarrassing," Laura said with a groan. "I cast a simple spell and nearly pass out, but you can summon multiple Glyphs with ease. Your endless supply of mana gives you an unfair advantage."

"Well, I've undergone extensive training." Shanoa gave her a cocky grin. "Besides, I'm some kind of supernaturally ordained Glyph savant. I don't know of anyone else who can make such a claim."

"If only the rest of us could be so special." Laura returned the grin with one of her own. The lighthearted banter helped ease her nerves, though the persistent knot remained in her stomach. She managed to keep herself upright as she pushed her body away from the table and walked into the living room.

Tatiana had sat down on one of the couches and looked up as the pair entered. Fenris lay curled on the floor at the healer's feet and his gaze followed the two women as they came to a stop next to the other couch. Laura's nerves returned in full strength when she saw a damning swarm of conflict in her mother's eyes. The woman was on the brink of something, a precipice that gave way to a terrible truth. She recalled that the same look had been in Tatiana's eyes all those years ago when the villagers dragged her off to perform the ritual.

"So," Laura said in an uneasy voice. She was at a loss as to how she should proceed. It wasn't her job to spearhead this conversation.

"I take it that Shanoa told you about our talk."

"She did, including the possibility that you might have something important to say to me." Tatiana scoffed at her daughter's choice of words.

"Important… that's an understatement." The healer's gaze dropped to the floor. A tense silence enveloped them in the pause that followed. Laura fidgeted as the lapse dragged on before Shanoa stepped forward and presented the black bow to Tatiana.

"Here, this belongs to you," the warrior said. The older woman took the weapon and cradled it in her lap with near reverence.

"Abel preferred to use a bow in lieu of a whip, though he was proficient with both." Tatiana's expression fell in sorrow as she ran her fingers along the polished wood. "A Belmont has to play a number of roles and make many sacrifices in turn. It's a curse as old as Dracula himself. I don't think either of us realized what our sacrifices would ultimately cost us, or who suffered the most from them." Her eyes remained downcast; their surface covered by a regretful sheen. "Not until it was too late."

"What are you talking about?" Laura's brow knit in confusion. "What sacrifices?" Tatiana winced at the question. Her mouth moved wordlessly for a few moments before she sighed and glanced at her daughter.

"You should probably have a seat."

"I'm fine as I am," Laura said without a second thought. The jeweler did not know why she insisted on resistance. Perhaps the desire to protest her mother's wishes was more ingrained than she realized.

"Trust me, you'll want to sit down," Tatiana said. Laura's stomach sank at the foreboding implication, but she acquiesced and sat down on the couch opposite her mother. Shanoa remained silent as she took a seat next to her lover. "There's no reason for me to maintain these secrets any longer. Your father is dead, but more importantly Dracula has been slain once again; a defeat that was delivered by the hands of someone other than a Belmont. This is, to my knowledge, an unprecedented event, yet it gives me cause to wonder. It's clear now that there exists more than one way to slay Dracula, and perhaps what Abel and I did was… unnecessary."

"You're talking about my training?" Laura asked, but Tatiana shook her head.

"It was more than that. We used you." The healer paused and her breath hissed through her clenched teeth. "That's the simplest way to put it. We acted in the belief that there was no alternative, but the price was too high."

"Mother, _what_ are you talking about?" Laura was a bit loath to admit it, but her curiosity had been piqued.

"I'll have to start at the beginning. That's the only way you'll understand." Tatiana's eyes glazed over with fondness. "Back when I first fell in love with your father."

"So you did love him," Laura said with a frown.

"I loved him with all my heart." The healer's gaze cut momentarily to Shanoa. Laura was unsure of the reason behind the acknowledgement, but she assumed it had something to do with the conversation she had not been privy to.

"Why?" the jeweler asked.

"I mourn that you have to ask me that question." Tatiana closed her eyes and gripped the bow that rested in her lap. "Abel was not the man you knew. The reality of his true nature was so much different than what he presented to the world. I met him when I was seventeen, long before either of us took up the guise of pretense and masks. At the time I was still traveling in a Romani caravan with my parents. He appeared one night under the most desperate circumstances…

_Tatiana was wrested from a deep sleep by the sound of a loud commotion outside the wagon. She sat upright in her bed as the rear door was thrown open with a bang. Her father climbed through the doorway and pulled a limp body inside. He was followed by a young man that she'd never seen before. Tatiana studied him as her vision came into focus. The stranger had an oval face with features that had yet to outgrow their boyish appearance. His eyes were a bright blue and his long, golden blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail._

"_Tatiana, come quick!" Her father's voice shook her awake as he dragged the body into the center of the room. The stranger shut the door behind them._

"_What's wrong?" the teenager asked as she scrambled out of bed. She gestured to the blonde man. "Who is this?"_

"_That's a long story, too long to expound upon at the moment." Her father's eyes made a frantic search of the wagon's interior. "Where's your mother?"_

"_I'm here!" The woman in question emerged from the back room with a brisk stride. The quartet gathered around the figure on the floor. He was a young man, no older than twenty, with dark hair and a handsome, angular face. His strong jaw was studded with short black stubble; evidence that the man had not shaved in days. The front of his shirt had been torn to shreds and his torso was coated in a layer of fresh blood. Deep, jagged cuts raked across his abdomen; blood still flowed freely from the open wounds. The blonde stranger clasped the injured man's limp hand in a tight grip. He tried to maintain a calm demeanor, but the twisted frown on the blonde's face belayed his distress._

_Her mother inspected the impromptu patient with a practiced eye. It took her only a few moments to complete her assessment. The longer they waited to start treatment the more grim his prognosis._

"_His wounds are severe, but I can save him with Tatiana's help," her mother said at last. The teenager started in surprise._

"_What?" Tatiana was skilled in the healing arts, but she was still a stranger to life-threatening wounds. Her experience with severe trauma ended at broken bones._

"_There's no need to worry, you've done this before," her mother said with a smile of encouragement. Tatiana cautiously lifted a shred of the young man's shirt to get a better look at his wounds. Pink intestines were visible through a gaping gash in his stomach and bile rose in Tatiana's throat._

"_I've never dealt with anything like this," Tatiana said as she averted her eyes from the gruesome sight._

"_You'll do fine. Just follow my lead." The teenager gulped, but she nodded. A man's life was at stake and she'd do what she could to save him. At her mother's command she channeled her magical energy into the palms of her hands. They glowed with a familiar white light as she concentrated. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mother do the same._

"_Edward, help me get his shirt off," her father said to the stranger. Together they ripped what remained of the garment from the patient's body. Tatiana winced and turned away as the full breadth of his injuries came into view. Her stomach convulsed and for a moment the teenager feared she'd vomit._

"_Tatiana, focus," her mother said in an even tone. The teenager fought down her bile once again and shifted her attention back to her patient. The wounds suggested that he'd been mauled by massive claws, though she knew of no ordinary beast large enough to inflict such injuries. It was possible that he'd been attacked by a monster or demon. Though that begged the question of where the man encountered such a rare creature and how he'd managed to avoid being killed outright._

_The older healer passed her hands over the young man, but she did not touch him. Small tendrils of light sprouted from her palms as she noted the full extent of his wounds. They glided forth; the ribbons of white ghosted over his rendered flesh before they dove beneath his skin._

_The patient's eyes opened with a ragged gasp as the tendrils moved within him. His pupils were dilated and his irises engulfed by a terrified blackness. He heaved as the tendrils proceeded to stitch him back together. Tatiana waited as her mother worked. The older healer was able to seal the ugliest wounds, but sections of his flesh remained ripped and bleeding. The tendrils faded as her mother's mana reserves depleted before they dissipated with a bright flash. She gasped and almost collapsed in exhaustion._

"_Tatiana… finish it for me," she said in a raspy voice._

_The teenager obeyed her mother's command. She manipulated the aura that surrounded her hands until it morphed into glowing tendrils. They flowed into the man's flesh and sewed his wounds closed until all that remained were thin red lines that crossed the surface of his skin. She could have stopped then, but Tatiana's instinct compelled her to determine if there were more wounds they somehow missed. The tendrils receded into her palms, though the white glow continued to emanate from them. She passed her hands over the length of the man's body. His breathing was still labored which fueled her suspicion-_

_There!_

_She located three areas of internal distress. Two of his ribs were broken and he had a perforated colon. Tatiana estimated that she had enough mana remaining to mend the wounds. Her left hand hovered over the broken ribs while she laid her right hand over the tear in his gut. She took a few deep breaths before she expelled a burst of energy. The colon was easy to repair, it followed the same method as a surface cut, but the fractures proved a more difficult task. She had to set the bones, and marrow was more stubborn than flesh. Tatiana broke out in a sweat as the process dragged on. At last the bones fused together and she completed the spell with a strained cry. She fell forward, but her mother caught her before she crashed to the floor._

"_Well done, my child," the older healer said in a breathless voice. Tatiana could only nod in reply. The young man's breathing had returned to normal. His eyes were closed and he appeared to have fallen asleep. Edward still clutched his hand; the blonde's body coiled with worry. Her father clapped him on the back._

"_You can relax now, Edward. The danger has passed," he said with a grin. "He just needs a few days to recover, but soon he'll be back to his usual reckless self."_

_Edward sighed and finally released his grip on his friend's hand. He sat back and wiped some beaded sweat from his brow. Tatiana noticed for the first time that jagged claw marks crisscrossed over Edward's arms. They bled slightly, but appeared to be superficial. The teenager reached out with a trembling hand, but he stopped her with a shake of his head._

"_Don't worry about me. These scratches will heal just fine on their own."_

"_What happened to you?" Tatiana asked. Her words were punctuated by an ugly cough. It was a typical symptom of mana depletion. Her throat felt dry and scratchy, but she knew it would pass soon enough._

"_We got on the wrong side of a Devil," Edward said with a groan. Tatiana gave him a quizzical look._

"_You fought the Devil?" He chuckled at her skeptical response._

"_Not the Biblical figure, of course. Devils are their own breed of monster. They're slow beasts, but they have massive claws that can slice through human flesh with ease." Edward nodded to his sleeping friend. "Abel was careless. He's more adept as a ranged fighter, but he charged the monster when he thought he saw an opening to strike at its gut. Needless to say, that plan didn't turn out in his favor."_

"_I don't assume that you just happened to run into one of these Devils by accident," Tatiana said. "Are you monster hunters?" Edward's mouth curved into a small grin._

"_That's one way of looking at it."_

"_There will be time to talk later." Her mother interrupted their conversation. "Abel needs to rest and someone should monitor him on the off chance he experiences any complications."_

"_Could you give up your bed, Tatiana?" her father asked in an apologetic tone. "We don't have anywhere else to put him."_

"_I don't mind." The teenager gave him a reassuring smile. "He needs it more than I do. Besides, it'll be best if I take first watch seeing as I'm wide awake." _

"_You all have my deepest thanks." Edward bowed his head to his generous hosts. Tatiana's father clapped the blonde on his back once again._

"_Only spiteful bastards would turn away old friends in need of help," he said with a jolly grin. "I'm sorry that we don't have another bed to offer you. We downgraded to a smaller wagon now that it's just the three of us."_

"_It's no trouble at all. I'll sleep outside. God knows I'm used to it." Edward's quip earned a bark of laughter from her father._

_The two men lifted Abel into the nearby bed. Tatiana was instructed to wake her father in a few hours to take over her vigil before her parents retreated into the adjoining room. Edward watched his sleeping friend in silence for a few minutes. Relief slowly washed over his face as it at last became evident to the blonde that Abel was not going to die. Once he was calmed by that realization Edward bid Tatiana good night and exited the wagon out the back door._

_Tatiana grabbed a book off a nearby shelf and sighed as she settled next to the bed. Her body had already begun to recover from the rigors of spell casting, but it would be a couple of hours before her symptoms receded. She closed her eyes as her breathing slowed. Her performance was commendable, though Tatiana wondered if her mother had intentionally left his deeper wounds unattended as a means to test her._

"_That was rather impressive." Tatiana looked up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice and her gaze met inquisitive deep brown eyes. Abel had woken up and he looked over at her with a warm smile on his face._

"_I thought you were asleep," she said once her initial surprise had worn off._

"_I just passed out for a couple minutes," he said with a slight shrug. Tatiana's brow furrowed at his casual demeanor._

"_You say that like it's nothing to worry about."_

"_Any longer and there would have been cause for concern." Abel cut himself off with a groan and clutched his stomach. "I don't understand. Why does it still hurt?"_

"_I'd be surprised if you weren't in pain. The body is a complicated thing to mold to your will and doing so requires an immense amount of mana. It's a general rule amongst healers that we only mend what is necessary to save the patient. My mother and I spearheaded the healing process, but now your body has to finish the job on its own." She smirked as Abel frowned at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but paused when he reconsidered the thought._

"_Well, I'd much rather be sore than dead," he said, though his voice carried a huff of protest at his predicament. "Thank you for saving my careless life." That statement, on the other hand, sounded genuine, but Tatiana shook her head._

"_I'll only accept your gratitude if you promise to be more careful in the future," she said with a reprimanding look. Abel's eyes widened at her demand._

"_Why should you be concerned about my well-being?"_

"_There's my professional integrity to be considered. I just helped save your life and it'd be poor form for you to die after I expended all this energy on you." She frowned. "That said, I don't like to see anyone die young. It's always such a waste."_

"_Point taken." Abel winced and he glanced up at the ceiling. "Just to be clear, I wasn't trying to offend you. I simply didn't expect that level of concern from someone I've just met."_

"_That's rather unfortunate," Tatiana said in a low voice. His eyes cut back to her face._

"_What is?"_

"_That you'd assume I wouldn't care about the person I almost watched bleed to death. It doesn't matter that you're a stranger; caring if you live or die is just basic human instinct."_

"_My prejudices tell me otherwise," he said with a dismissive shrug. "I don't usually associate with the best breed of people."_

"_Then who do you associate with?" she asked. Abel mulled over the question for a few moments._

"_Perhaps 'associate' isn't the right word. It'd be more accurate to say that I monitor the degenerates of the Earth."_

"_That doesn't sound pleasant."_

"_It's not," he said with a slight grin. "But it comes with the occupation."_

"_Would the aforementioned occupation be monster hunting?" Tatiana hadn't been able to get a straight answer out of Edward, but perhaps she could goad Abel into telling her how the pair wound up fighting an angry demon. His grin grew wider and a wistful sheen gleamed in his eyes._

"_That's one way of putting it," Abel said under his breath. A beat of silence passed between them before Tatiana broke it with a hearty laugh. His grin faltered at her unexpected reaction. "What's so funny?"_

"_Edward said the exact same thing when I asked him about it," she said once her mirth had subsided._

"_It's an accurate response!" Despite Abel's insistence he did not expound upon the reasons why. Tatiana waited impatiently for him to continue, but it became clear after a few minutes that he didn't plan on doing so._

"_Well?" she asked in an annoyed tone. He cast the teenager a side-long glance._

"_Well what?"_

"_You didn't answer my question." Her voice carried a scolding bite. Abel sighed as it dawned on him that she would not let the matter go unaddressed._

"_Do you really want to know?" he asked in what seemed to be a last-ditch attempt to avoid reciting a viable explanation._

"_That's why I'm asking."_

"_Then how about this: we'll make a deal." Abel turned his head and looked her directly in the eyes. The somber expression he wore meant to convey severity, but Tatiana found it adorable; a fact that was emphasized by the slight pout in his lips. "If you promise to keep what I'm about to tell you a secret then I'll promise to be more cautious in battle."_

"_All right, I promise," she said with a smile. Abel closed his eyes and steeled himself._

"… _I'm a vampire slayer," he said in a quick breath. There was a pause as Tatiana waited to hear the rest of his confession, but that was all he had to say._

"_Is that it?" she asked. He opened one of his eyes._

"_Pardon?"_

"_Considering the secrecy I was expecting your occupation to be something more socially unacceptable: a thief or an assassin, for example." Tatiana frowned in disappointment. "'Vampire slayer' is a noble profession. It's rather anti-climactic." Abel turned his head towards her; his mouth agape in astonishment._

"_I... I'm not sure what the issue is."_

"_It doesn't seem like a pursuit that you'd need to keep secret."_

"_Have you ever pissed off an entire clan of vampires before?" The somber pout returned to his expression. "Trust me; you don't want them to know where you or your loved ones sleep."_

"_Well, when you put it that way I guess it makes sense," she said with a nod. His expression transitioned into a look of burning curiosity as he studied the young woman beside him._

"_I don't believe I got your name," he said at length._

"_It's Tatiana." She smiled at him. "I already know your name. Edward told me while you were passed out."_

"_Tatiana," he repeated in a delicate manner as he tasted the sound of the syllables. "Even your name is beautiful." His eyes widened in shock once the words had passed his lips. The look of pleasant surprise on her face confirmed his fear that he'd spoken out loud and Abel spiraled into a small panic. "I mean- I meant to say that you're not, well, you __**are**__ beautiful, but… I didn't mean to imply-" A deep red blush blossomed across his cheeks. "Does healing magic make the recipient lightheaded? I think I'm lightheaded right now." He quickly turned his head away from the apparently attractive young woman. Tatiana failed to stifle a laugh at his behavior._

"_You're adorable when you're flustered." The teasing lilt to her voice was accented by a playful smile. Abel frowned as his face turned an even darker shade of red._

"_Good to know that my idiocy is endearing to women." He made a sound akin to a whimper. "Now I'm going to have to regale you with tales of my various vampire-slaying exploits in order to regain my sense of manly pride."_

"_I'd love to hear them, but they'll have to wait until after you get some sleep."_

"_I'm surprisingly awake," Abel said, though he burrowed deeper under the blanket draped across his body. "I don't suppose you know of a spell that can make someone fall asleep?"_

"_Sorry," she said in an apologetic tone._

"_Damn it, there goes my one escape plan. Now I have to steep in my embarrassment until exhaustion saves me from this horrid fate."_

"_I do, however, have some herbs that help induce sleep. All I need to do is mix them with some water." Abel gave her a brief, grateful smile._

"_That would be wonderful, thank you."_

_The teenager stood up and proceeded to make the mixture. They kept the herbs on hand in a glass jar for situations like this. She blended a few pinches with a cup of water she poured from a large jug. Tatiana returned to the bedside with the drink and discovered that Abel had fallen into a deep sleep. She was skeptical at first and waved her hand over his eyes, but he made no response to the movement._

_Tatiana chuckled and shook her head. Abel was quite the interesting character. He did not have the gruff demeanor that his formidable physique suggested. Instead he was rather charming – in an unintentional sort of way – and, she noted with smug satisfaction, quite handsome._

Laura stared at her mother in silence as she tried to make sense of Tatiana's story. The man she had described was not her father. Abel did not quip or feel embarrassment or allowed himself to be berated by another. There were too many contradictions for the tale to be true.

But why would her mother lie about this? Perhaps this was Tatiana's attempt to ease her daughter's bitterness towards a dead man, yet if it _was_ a lie it was an extravagant one. Her mother was not lacking the inspiration to conceive such a story. Tatiana loved literature as much as Laura did. It was one of the many traits the jeweler had inherited from her, but an avid reader did not equate to a competent storyteller. Laura doubted that her mother had the skill to devise such a complex lie on a whim, unless the healer had planned this speech far in advance.

She circled back to her mother's motivation. What did Tatiana stand to gain by lying? Why would she go to such extremes to maintain a façade, especially when Shanoa had just challenged her to speak the truth?

"I don't blame you for doubting me. I would do the same if I was in your position," Tatiana said as she watched her daughter wrestle with countless questions. Laura's mouth opened and closed a few times before she found the means to voice her thoughts.

"Are you asking me to believe that the man in your story was the same man who trained me?" The jeweler's tone was terse with apprehension.

"No, I'm not." Tatiana's unexpected response only deepened her confusion.

"What?"

"They were two different men: a Belmont warrior and the man I knew as Abel. I respected, yet pitied, the warrior, but I loved the man who housed it."

"I… I don't understand," Laura said, but a faint spark of ugly comprehension had ignited deep within her.

"I don't expect you to. Not yet at any rate." Tatiana's words fueled the sense of foreboding that roiled in her gut.

"He knew your family?" Laura asked in an attempt to get her mind to focus on anything other than the unpleasant feeling.

"Yes, though for most of his life Abel had simply known _of_ us," her mother said without questioning the conversational shift. "He didn't initiate a correspondence until after he was forced into the thick of his family's various conflicts. Abel formed a network of trusted allies from families that have historically fought alongside the Belmont clan. My parents fell into that category."

"What made them trustworthy?" Laura did not know much about her mother's side of the family. They had fallen out of touch when she was a young child and her parents never revealed the reasons why.

"Both of us inherited our magical abilities from your grandmother, but she comes from a line of notable spell casters." Tatiana leveled her gaze at her daughter. "We are descendants of the Belnades clan."

"Belnades? As in Sypha Belnades?" Shanoa interjected before Laura could respond.

"I see you know your history," the healer said with an approving smile. Laura looked back and forth between the two women. Tatiana's behavior made it seem as if she genuinely liked Shanoa, though the jeweler was positive that the nature of their relationship was not lost on her mother. There was the possibility that Tatiana was just being civil to a guest, but her expression did not bequeath insincerity. Besides, Shanoa would have said something if she detected falsehood in Tatiana's demeanor.

"At least in regards to Dracula and his various resurrections," the warrior said. "I could list the names of everyone who was, at some point, involved with the destruction of the Dark Lord and the role that they played in his demise. It was a subject that all of Ecclesia was required to be well-versed in."

"No doubt for less than noble purposes," Tatiana said with a frown. "While we are of Belnades blood we are not directly descended from Sypha herself. The children she sired with Trevor Belmont shared his name. We are related to Sypha through her relatives, not her offspring."

Laura tried to muster some measure of surprise at the revelation of her heritage and failed. It simply made sense; a part of her history that she'd known was missing, but couldn't name. However, there was a darker aspect to the knowledge. It was further proof to Laura's claim that she had been bred.

"Abel knew he could call upon a Belnades for aide," her mother continued, "and he contacted my mother in secret after his family was massacred. They maintained a regular correspondence and even met on a few occasions without my knowledge. Much to Abel's good fortune, he and Edward just happened to be near our campsite that night."

"Who is this Edward, anyway?" Laura asked another question that had been nagging at her.

"I'm not surprised that you don't remember him. You've only met Edward a few times, and all under vastly different circumstances. His full name is Edward Morris." Tatiana said the surname as if it held some great meaning, but it was lost on the jeweler. "He and Abel grew up together. After your father was forced into hiding Edward pledged his family's allegiance to the Belmont clan. I expect him to reconvene with me in the next few months." The healer's eyes gleamed with a deep fondness. "At least now I can give him a complete report on the dimensional tear."

Laura's head spun as she tried to recall meeting someone who matched Edward's description, but her memories were drowned out by an infinite barrage of questions. _There's so much here._

"Why did you keep all of this a secret?" Laura asked the question that roared the loudest. The delight on Tatiana's face dispersed and her expression turned sullen once more.

"Secrecy was our initial sacrifice; the first pact we made with each other…

_Almost a year had passed since the night they first met. Abel and Edward frequented the Romanian countryside and (much to Tatiana's delight) often visited the small family. She and Abel had grown close during his visits. The teenager had a habit of reading by the campfire her parents built every night outside their wagon. Abel would find her in the evenings after everyone in the caravan had settled down for the night. He'd sit with her in the dark and they'd converse for hours at a time._

_He was quick to recount tales of his various monster hunting exploits, but Abel kept the details of his personal life to a minimum. It had dawned on Tatiana during one of his recent visits that she didn't even know his surname. She had asked her parents if they knew, but they purported that it was not their place to reveal it. The confused teenager failed to discern what the cryptic response meant._

_Despite the mystery that surrounded him, Tatiana had fallen for the vampire slayer. While she could have sworn that he felt something in return Abel maintained a subtle aversion to any discussion on romance. She'd attempted to reveal her affections on numerous occasions, but he always side-stepped the issue. At last Tatiana decided to employ action in lieu of words._

_That night they conversed by the campfire as per their usual routine during his visits. They sat facing each other on the trampled grass. The orange light from the flames bathed Abel in a soft glow and his expression was twisted in confusion as Tatiana laughed at his most recent revelation._

"_Stop laughing at me!" His mouth dipped into a frown. Abel's irritation did nothing to quell the teenager's mirth._

"_I can't help it! It's just so unexpected!" Tatiana gasped in-between her fits of hearty laughter._

"_Why? Because it's not a 'manly' profession?" Abel's frown became more pronounced as she clutched her sides._

"_I just." She was interrupted by another bark of laughter. "You cut down monsters and then you go home and cut gemstones!" She grinned from ear to ear as she envisioned a blood-covered Abel fret over the proper placement of an amethyst in a jeweled necklace._

"_A man doesn't have to be just one thing, you know. I can be a vampire slayer and a jeweler." Abel's half-hearted attempt at an argument fell on deaf ears. He seemed to conclude that the young woman was beyond reason and his frown turned into a familiar childish pout._

"_They're on opposite ends of the spectrum." Tatiana wheezed as her laughter at last began to subside. "How does someone like you even become a jeweler in the first place?"_

"_I…" Abel shook his head. "No, you're just going to laugh at me some more."_

"_Now you __**have**__ to tell me." Abel continued to pout as she gave him the most pitiful doe-eyed look she could muster. He groaned when her winsome expression succeeded._

"_Becoming a jeweler was my way of rebelling as a child." He blushed and averted his eyes away from Tatiana as he spoke. "There was this crotchety old woman who lived in our village. She was ugly and a recluse so my siblings and I often referred to her as a witch. Never to her face, mind you. We were young, but not that stupid. Though the woman lacked an inviting personality she was an expert jeweler. People would travel to our village from all over the countryside just to admire her work._

"_When I was about ten years old I started to loathe my training. Members of my family have been vampire slayers for generations and I was expected to carry on the tradition. So much of my childhood was focused on vicious monsters and epic battles that dead men fought long ago. I grew sick of it. So one day I decided that I would pursue something that a vampire slayer, by definition, avoids: creating. Then I had the bright idea that the best way to do this was to force the old jeweler to take me as her apprentice."_

"_And the miserly woman agreed to your proposal?" Tatiana asked with an amused smirk._

"_Well, not right away of course. She put up a hell of a good fight, but I wouldn't take 'no' for an answer." A bashful grin formed on Abel's face. "I showed up at her house every morning with the same demand that she teach me her craft. Every day she slammed the door in my face, but I was determined. I'd simply go up to a window and start tapping on the glass until she was beside herself with annoyance. If she moved to a different room then I'd move to the corresponding window. I was quite the little pest."_

"_I think I would have thrown something at you." Tatiana giggled as she imagined a miniature Abel: the scourge of disgruntled old women._

"_She did throw a book at the window once." That earned another round of laughter from the teenager. "It was only a couple of weeks before she caved, though. She gave me a month to prove myself. If I showed any sign of talent she would keep me as her apprentice, but if not I was to leave and never bother her again." He preened for a moment. "I think she was more annoyed than impressed when I turned out to be a natural."_

"_What did your family have to say about it?" Tatiana asked. He shrugged and shook his head._

"_They were amicable so long as my apprenticeship did not conflict with my training." He winced. "Which kind of defeated the entire point of my rebellion in the first place." Abel scratched his chin. There was a soft scraping sound as his fingers moved through the rough stubble that covered his jaw. "Still, I discovered that I genuinely loved crafting jewelry. It was something to be proud of."_

"_Slaying vampires doesn't give you a sense of personal pride?"_

"_It does, but the resulting satisfaction is completely different." Abel's brow furrowed as he searched for the best explanation. "The effort and dedication it takes to create something is greater than the force that can destroy it. My birthright commands me to destroy some of the vilest beings in existence, but as I grew older I discovered that I also wished to create something, well, beautiful; something that people could marvel at or would render them speechless. It's not the role of a vampire slayer to achieve this, but an artist." His eyes misted over with something – a hitherto unspoken emotion – as he looked at Tatiana. "That's why I have such high respect for your power. There's an art to healing; you mend tattered flesh. You create where others have destroyed. It takes little effort to snuff out a life, but great measures to save one."_

_The conversation trailed off into silence as they stared at each other. Tatiana's heart pounded in her chest as she recognized the deep adoration in Abel's eyes. Something in the back of her mind told her that this was the moment she had waited for. Tatiana did not say anything in response to his praise. Instead, she leaned in close to kiss him. For a few exciting seconds he also moved towards her, but he backed away with a gasp at the last possible moment._

_Abel's eyes widened in shock while Tatiana sat there, frozen in place, unsure of how she should react to his sudden change of heart._

"_I- I'm sorry," he said as his cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. Abel scrambled to his feet and fled into the darkness that lay beyond the light of the campfire. Tatiana watched him with her mouth held slightly agape._

"_Well shit," she said under her breath._

_Abel avoided her throughout the following day. He meandered about the caravan lost in thought; the weight of some massive conflict etched in his expression. Tatiana attempted to speak with him, but the vampire slayer always found an excuse to escape the conversation. At last she decided to let him be. The more she fought him the more distant he'd become. It was better to wait until he approached her of his own volition._

_She claimed her usual place by the campfire in the evening. It was difficult for her to focus on the content of her book due to a bombardment of questions. What had she done wrong? Where had she crossed the line? _

_Tatiana heard someone approach and knew it was Abel before she even turned her head. He paused when she looked up at him. The young man almost turned to leave, but squared his shoulders and met Tatiana's gaze._

"_Can I… speak with you?" His eyes made a cursory sweep of their surroundings. "Alone." Tatiana mirrored his previous action. She saw the black outlines of a few people near a fire on the far side of the camp, but no one else was outside._

"_We are alone," she said. Abel shook his head._

"_This is too public," he said with some insistence. "Someone might accidentally overhear us." Tatiana closed her book and rose to her feet._

"_Where do you propose we go?" The sun had already set behind the horizon. The last remnants of dusk blanketed the sky in a purple haze._

"_I've found a place." He paused when he took note of her concerned expression. Abel glanced up at the sky. "It's not far, and the moon will provide us with enough light to see."_

_Tatiana decided to trust his word and followed Abel into the forest. The pair walked in silence for a few minutes before they stepped into an open clearing. Abel ground to a stop. His head drooped forward as his entire body stilled. Tatiana took a cursory step towards him and opened her mouth to say something, but before any sound passed her lips Abel whirled. He reached out, grabbed her by the arms, and pulled her into a kiss. It lasted for a brief moment before Abel released her and stepped back._

"_I'm sorry." His eyes focused on the forest floor in shame. "I should have asked permission before I kissed you, but I was afraid that if I hesitated I'd lose my courage." Tatiana stared at him in incredulity as she beheld the meek giant before her._

"_Why did you run away from me last night?" she asked in a steady voice._

"_You're sincere about this. You actually feel something for me, and I… feel something in return."_

"_And that terrifies you?"_

"_If I was a normal man I would be jubilant over this development, but I am not a normal man." A sorrowful frown creased his lips. "I can't form any kind of romantic attachment without informing the other party of what is at stake and the kind of life I'd lead them into. Everyone I'm close to is affected by the burden I inherited. It's unavoidable." Tatiana reached up and cupped his cheek in her palm._

"_Then tell me."_

"_Have you ever heard of the Belmont clan?" he asked, though his eyes still did not meet hers._

"_They're the line of warriors sworn to stand against Dracula. At least, that's what local legends say. The clan has always been shrouded in mystery, and over the course of the past century they've slowly vanished." Tatiana moved her hand underneath Abel's chin and tilted his head until he at last looked her in the eyes. "You're a Belmont, aren't you?"_

"_Yes, and possibly the last of the bloodline." Abel's eyes glistened and for a moment she thought he would cry. "I am Abel Belmont, the second son of Richter Belmont – the last man to slay the Dark Lord."_

"_Why do you think you need to keep this a secret?" She knew her history. The Belmonts had once been hailed as heroes, but they always preferred to hide from the public eye._

"_Just as we hunt denizens of the night they in turn also hunt us. After my father defeated Dracula he fell prey to a dark priest's wicked sorcery. While Richter was entranced he betrayed everything that the Belmonts stand for." Shame washed over Abel's face, but he did not expound upon the matter. "He was eventually freed from the spell, but nothing could change what my father had done. Richter realized that the power of a Belmont was exploitable. We faced enemies that possessed the means through which they could do something worse than kill us: enslave us. In doing so they could force us to commit nefarious deeds. We are formidable warriors against the night, but a Belmont is just as vicious when turned against the Sun._

"_In light of this discovery Richter took his family and retreated into the unknown corners of the world. Places where he hoped that wicked men would not find us, but…" Abel grimaced as the words refused to form on his tongue._

"_You don't have to tell me what happened," Tatiana said. She'd gleaned all that she needed to know from the pain etched on his face._

"_I wasn't there to fight alongside them." His voice held a tone she'd never heard from him before. A wealth of old sorrow combined with a whimper of helplessness. "I yet live, but I'm the only one who can uphold my family's oath. I am the sole person who can ensure it survives." Even in the encroaching darkness Tatiana could see the weight of great purpose reflected in his deep brown eyes. "If you desire to be with me then you need to know that it will require sacrifice, and all too often it is a cruel sacrifice."_

"_You mean I'd have to go into hiding with you?"_

"_Yes, but it's more than that. I am obligated to father children and in turn raise them to be warriors of a caliber that can stand against ultimate darkness."_

"_It's a bit premature to leap right into the subject of children after just one kiss." There was a teasing lilt to Tatiana's tone, but it did not penetrate the emotions that shrouded the young man in front of her._

"_I know it sounds rushed, but I need to tell you this now before we become any more involved. It's too demanding to keep a secret and I don't want to hide this from you." The words passed his lips at a frantic pace. Tatiana, however, was an ocean of calm._

"_Then tell me, Abel. Tell me what is so terrifying." Her tone beckoned the young hunter to relax. She was successful and he exhaled a shuddering breath as the tension in his shoulders released._

"_I must sire children, but I can't be a father to them." His voice had steadied, but Abel's tone was hollow. "Things would be different if the Belmonts weren't close to extinction, but as it is I must force my children to hunt, fight, and kill. Regardless of their inherent nature or desires I must force them to become slayers of both monsters and men; wicked men, but still human._

"_There's too much at stake for me to risk it on gentleness. If the Belmonts are eradicated then Dracula wins. Our survival ensures humanity's survival. So my children cannot have a father that nurtures and protects them. Instead they will be raised by a fierce warrior and a harsh mentor; a man who demands that they carry the fate of the world upon their shoulders._

"_And all the while I would ask their mother to watch in silence as I shape them into what they have to become." Abel faltered when he said "mother", but did not avert his eyes from Tatiana's. "I would ask her to support me as I cease to be Abel and in his place become the embodiment of the oath that binds every Belmont – _

"ENOUGH!" Laura's voice carried a roar as she tore herself away from the couch.

"Laura, please." The jeweler gave no heed to her mother's words. She ground her teeth as her body surged with the need to move, to do something, to do _anything_ other than listen to this damn story that seeped from Tatiana's lips. All of it was salt on an open wound. Why did she ever believe that allowing her mother to speak would lead to some kind of resolution? Shanoa turned and watched her as Laura paced back and forth behind the couch. The warrior's eyes were awash with concern, but she did not move to get up. "Laura-"

"It doesn't change a goddamn thing!" There was a harsh rasp in the jeweler's voice and she trembled as the fury boiled beneath her skin.

"I'm not saying that it does. What I'm trying to say is that I'm sorry." Tatiana's voice cracked, but her eyes remained transfixed on her daughter. A low growl rose in Laura's throat and she twisted her fingers in her hair.

"You- you _planned_ this! Long before I was even conceived… how could you do that? How could someone deliberately plan to make their child feel worthless; to systematically chip away at their personality until they buckle and submit?" Her stomach churned and for a moment Laura feared she might vomit. "It was all just a fucking game." The poisoned words tasted bitter on her tongue.

"We did what we thought was necessary," Tatiana intoned, though her voice betrayed a wealth of regret. "That's no excuse or even a legitimate reason, but it was what motivated us." Laura spared her mother a glance. The healer seemed torn on whether or not she should rush to her daughter's side. Laura hoped that Tatiana stayed where she was. She'd never lashed out at her mother, but the temptation was strong at the moment.

"How could you agree to this? How could you watch this unfold for over two decades without interference?" Laura's questions were laced with righteous demand. Tatiana at last made up her mind and rose to her feet. She did not make any move towards her daughter, but she squared her shoulders and looked into the jeweler's eyes with a steady gaze.

"Because I believed in him almost as much as I believe in you," Tatiana said the declaration as if it was an unquestionable truth. Laura suppressed the urge to scoff.

"Why believe in me? I'm the indignant child who failed to become anything like the Belmont you strived to create."

"You didn't fail: you made a choice," the healer said with unexpected pride. "We pounded our convictions into you, but you did not yield. You never did 'buckle and submit' as you so aptly put it. There were times where you conceded, but you never surrendered. You never stopped fighting back." Those words felt even more damning to Laura than the story she had just heard. Her mother had gone so far as to keep her true praise silent just because its utterance could reveal their façade.

Laura wanted to scream and choke her mother and raze all of Baia to the ground. She wanted to destroy every shred of evidence that the Belmont clan ever existed. Her entire life had been a pre-determined construct; a means to an end. All because of _what_ she was.

She did not know what the Belmonts did to anger God, but they were cursed to endure a horrible fate.

"Laura," Tatiana whispered, but the jeweler shook her head.

"I can't. I just can't." Her voice wavered as she began to back away. She needed to escape this room and the deceit that permeated it.

"There's one more thing you need to know," the healer said with insistence.

"Why bother? What difference could it possibly make?" Laura's heart sank as she felt immense defeat burrow its tendrils inside her chest.

"We should have protested when the villagers dragged you away. We could have done more, but we didn't." Tears gathered in Tatiana's eyes as she spoke. Laura stared blankly at her for a few seconds before understanding dawned on her.

"Why fight for a daughter who's tainted by abnormal lust?" She knew her words were false, but it seemed to be what the rest of the world thought of _her kind_.

"I just want you to love and be loved in return. That's what any parent wants for their child." The healer motioned towards Shanoa. "If this woman loves you then I don't give a damn about her gender. That's not what matters to me. What's important is that you're happy." Laura looked to her lover and waited for any sign that she detected falsehood in Tatiana's claim. The warrior's eyes softened and she understood that her mother had been sincere.

"If that's how you feel then why didn't you say anything?" the jeweler asked. Tatiana winced and hung her head.

"We were scared of the potential repercussions of our actions," she whispered. "Our fear left us feeling helpless...

_Abel closed the front door once the crowd had left. The villagers didn't even glance back at the house as they dragged Laura away. He stared at the barrier in silence; his expression an unreadable mask. Tatiana remained glued to her seat on the bottom steps. Her vision fogged as she looked not at her husband, but through him. Past the image that Abel continued to purport even when Laura pleaded with her parents for help._

_And they had done nothing. They simply watched as their daughter was taken from them._

_Tatiana jumped as Abel punched the door. The loud bang from the collision reverberated throughout the room. He shuddered in an attempt to regain control over his volatile emotions._

"_They had no right," he said through gritted teeth. Tatiana could only see the side of his face from where she sat, but it was enough for her to note how – despite the anger that snapped in his eyes – Abel looked almost frightened._

"_We should have done something," Tatiana said in a low voice, but her words still sliced through the air. "Perhaps it's not too late. We still could-"_

"_Do what?" Abel whirled around until he faced his wife. The conflicting anger and fear warred within his expression. "If we attempt to take her back by force we'll expose ourselves to the entire village. Word travels fast, even in wild country. The best course of action is to wait. Once they're done with Laura their fear will subside on its own." Tatiana stared up at him in incredulity._

"_Is that what we've been reduced to? People willing to sacrifice our own daughter for the sake of secrecy?" she asked in a demanding tone. Abel grimaced and ran a hand through his thick, dark hair._

"_Every Belmont has to make sacrifices." She heard the strain in his voice as he attempted to convince himself of the validity in his own argument. "Her sacrifice will be to forgo her personal desires in favor of a relationship that can ensure the clan's survival. This situation could work to our advantage. Perhaps it will at last rid her of such foolhardy attractions. We were going to have to force that lesson on her at some point." Tatiana shook her head. She had previously conceded that they'd need to demonstrate to Laura that her unusual tastes were detrimental to their end goal, but after she'd seen the terror on her daughter's face such a lesson seemed much too cruel._

"_I can't do that to her. It's not right, Abel. It isn't moral."_

"_It's too late for us to change!" Her husband's face hardened in that familiar Belmont resolve. "We chose this path and we must walk it until the end. Nothing we've done to her has been moral, but humanity __**needs**__ her to be a Belmont. Humanity needs her now more than ever, and that's required us to dirty our hands in the process." Abel's expression faltered then. The stalwart resolve shattered and was replaced by something much more terrifying. He looked defeated and hollow in that moment. A mere shell of the man he was. She realized that he despised the words he had just spoken, but Abel pressed on regardless. "We surrendered our morality long ago, Tatiana." His voice dropped to a whisper. "All that we can do now is continue to play our part." A few moments of silence passed as she mulled over how to respond._

"_What would you do if she wasn't a Belmont?"_

"_I'd tear down all of Baia to get her back." Abel's tone was soft – almost meek – but she knew he had spoken from his heart._

_If she wasn't a Belmont…_

_The conversation halted after that. Tatiana tried in vain to justify their chosen course. Baia was a secure location and a convenient hub for their operations. If their cover was compromised it would be difficult to find another post in this part of Romania. Besides, any deviation from their established roles would shatter the façade they had maintained for so long, and there were some truths that Laura was not ready to hear._

_Yet every point of justification Tatiana concocted only served to feed the pain that festered inside her._

_She did not know how much time passed before the front door opened once again. Laura walked inside, soaked in water, and Tatiana's heart broke when she saw the total defeat etched in her daughter's expression. Laura's face was red; evidence that she had cried. Just what did those people do to her?_

_Abel resumed his role as the oath-driven Belmont. Tatiana didn't need to listen to their conversation to know what was said. It was the same tired excuses. The same lessons they had driven into their daughter ever since she was born. Tatiana could not bear to stomach them; lies upon lies, and all for the sake of some omnipresent duty. She dared to look into Laura's eyes and the endless pain she saw there made clear an undeniable truth: she and Abel had committed sins for which they would never be able to repent._

"_FUCK YOUR DUTY!" Laura's voice rang in her ears. "I will be the kind of person that I want to be! And if that does not adhere to what my ancestors desired then so be it!"_

"_You're a Belmont. You don't have that privilege." Her husband's words cut Tatiana to her core._

"_And just what makes a Belmont these days?" The bold fervor in Laura's voice surprised her. The teenager stepped forward as she glared up into her father's eyes. "You're so bound to the idea of this ancient oath that you can't see what your precious bloodline has become! Look at the Belmont clan now: a pitiful force that hides in the mountains because they won't even publically claim their own name for fear of retaliation. A clan so devoted to bloodshed that they've lost their respect for life. And yet, despite endless struggle as they cling to an oath, it's a clan that couldn't even sustain itself!" Laura's lips twisted upwards in an indignant sneer. "If this is what it means to be a Belmont then I will bear no guilt if the last of the bloodline dies with me!"_

_Abel struck her. Tatiana leapt to her feet as the blow connected. She moved to intervene, but Laura responded faster. The defeat in the teenager's eyes had been replaced by burning fury and she spat on her father's shoes._

"_If being a Belmont means being just like you." Her bottom lip quivered. "I'd rather die than let myself become one."_

_Laura fled before either of them could reply. Tatiana did not watch her daughter as she ran off. Her attention was fixed on Abel. They were a cruel pair, but even they had limits as to what was acceptable. Striking their daughter in her moment of need was beyond Tatiana's ability to forgive. She opened her mouth to hurl a protest, but paused when Abel laughed. It was the most hollow, joyless laugh she had ever heard, and it chilled her to the bone._

"_I'm a fool." A small chuckle rumbled in his throat. "I'm a damn fool." Abel turned around and looked at his wife. Tatiana almost didn't believe what she saw. Tears ran down his cheeks. She could not remember the last time she had seen him cry. He laughed again and gave her a wry smile. "I was wrong, Tatiana. Our daughter is the most formidable warrior I have ever known, and not at all in the way I intended."_

Laura stood motionless as Tatiana finished her story. At once, everything stilled: the questions, her emotions, and the energy that had surged beneath her skin. It all went quiet save for a single phrase.

"_I was wrong."_

Those three words echoed inside her head. She tried to comprehend the meaning contained within that short phrase, but the stillness that engulfed her barred the jeweler from understanding. She did not know what kind of emotions that phrase elicited from her. Her heart couldn't bear to feel them.

"Laura?" her mother's voice was laden with concern. Laura's vision refocused as she looked up at the healer. What she saw reflected in Tatiana's eyes was almost enough to shatter the empty calm inside of her.

"Not now," the jeweler said with a shake of her head. She knew what would come in the wake of this calm and she wanted to stave it off as long as she could.

"_I was wrong."_

She would never hear him say those words. He had spoken them, but not to her, and now it was too late. It was too late for so many things.

Laura could not look at her mother any longer. She couldn't bear to be in the same room with her. Tatiana did not object as the jeweler made her escape. She did not have a destination in mind, but her feet automatically guided her down the hall to her old room. Once inside she headed for the large bed set against the left wall. Laura crawled on top of the mattress and curled into the plush quilt that covered it.

It wasn't long before she heard the floorboards creak as someone else entered the room. Laura's back was to the doorway, but she did not need to turn around to know that it was Shanoa. The warrior didn't speak; she simply climbed into bed next to her lover and sat with her back against the headboard. Laura rolled over with a small sigh and rested her head in Shanoa's lap. The warrior's left hand stroked through her hair in a welcome act of comfort.

They lay there in silence. Laura's eyes slid closed as she took solace in the feeling of being held. Her life had been permeated by lies, but Shanoa was no stranger to such revelations. Both of them were subjected to overwhelming deceit. Their shared adoration, however, was no lie.

The jeweler opened her eyes when she heard the floorboards creak again. Fenris poked his large head into the room. His ears were laid back against his skull and his big blue eyes begged for permission to enter. Laura groaned and extended her hand towards the furry beast.

"Come here," she said in defeat. Fenris' ears perked up and his tongue lolled out of his mouth as he trotted over to the bed. He leapt up to join the pair and the mattress dipped under his weight. It was a tight fit, but the dog managed to squeeze up against Laura's legs. Fenris rested his head on top of the jeweler's hip once he was settled. "I hope no one else decides to join us or we're going to break the bed," she said in a dry tone.

"This is it," Shanoa said. The jeweler could hear a smile in her voice. "Tatiana is busy preparing for the ritual. We both agreed that it would be best if she gave you a wide berth for the time being."

"She was telling the truth, wasn't she?" Laura asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Yes," the warrior said in an apologetic voice.

"I don't know what to feel. I know I should feel _something_, but right now I can't feel anything." Laura's tone carried the hollowness that echoed inside her chest.

"You just need to give it time. Believe me, it'll come to you."

"How much time?" The stillness was unsettling, but the thought of what she could be feeling instead was even more so.

"However long it takes." Shanoa leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "What you just heard." She paused for a moment. "I didn't have parents. Well, everyone has parents, but I never had any parental figures. The elders and I didn't have a comparable dynamic. At most they were my teachers and I was their faithful student.

"That said, they taught me how to fight and gave my life a definitive purpose. They instilled in me the belief that I was destined for great things. So when it was revealed that all of it had been a lie – a front devised as a means to an end – it was beyond devastating. I was little more than a tool in the eyes of those who raised me, but I was not their kin." Shanoa's voice softened as she reached the apex of her monologue. "Barlowe did not sire me."

"They knew the cost, but they still went through with it." There was a hitch in Laura's tone; the one sign of her buried distress. "I don't know if that self-awareness makes what they did more or less forgivable."

"That's something only you can decide. Tatiana has revealed the truth, but you get to choose what to do with it."

"What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Then, to make things worse, some of what she said sounded like just a small part of a bigger story." Laura squeezed her eyes shut. "But I can't stand to hear any more."

"That's why you need to give it time," the warrior said. "You'll figure it out, I promise." Laura sighed and shifted closer to the younger woman. "Though it's understandable if you don't believe me."

Laura grasped the hand that continued to stroke through her hair. She guided it to her lips and kissed Shanoa's fingers.

"No, my love," she whispered against the warrior's skin, "I believe you."

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> I have officially crossed over into widespread Castlevania canon. To be honest, when I started writing this story I had no intention of tying it to other games in the series. This whole chapter was another unexpected development. All of the clan connections I've just established are not in the official canon. My imagination once again took loose source material and ran with it to a detailed extent.

There's a surprising amount of depth and complexity to Tatiana and Abel's relationship. If I wanted to I could write a whole novel dedicated to exploring it, but I've covered most of what's applicable to this story. The parallels between their interactions and Laura's relationship with Shanoa were intentional. Children tend to reflect the traits of their parents, and she shares even more similarities with them than she realized.

My intent with this chapter is not to create any sort of excuse for Tatiana and Abel's actions, but highlight their destructive reasoning. Abusers are commonly portrayed as unrepentant monsters. While that's all too often the case I've seen abusers break down and cry over their past behavior. We're all human, in the end, and sometimes a massive influx of self-awareness can come from the people we least expect.


	20. A Broken Tether

**Author's note:** this chapter got delayed by the release of the new Nightwish album. I have an addiction and I'm not sorry.

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty<p>

_A Broken Tether_

Silence once again surrounded them. Its presence seemed welcome enough as Laura did not press the warrior for conversation. Shanoa made a contented sound as she relaxed against the headboard. She'd resolved to provide Laura with whatever help she needed, and if simply holding her was enough then the warrior was more than happy to give it. She looked down as she felt Laura shudder, but the jeweler did not cry. The older woman's face was a blank slate that seemed to convey a heart devoid of emotion. Shanoa knew better. The thin veneer of apathy could not hide the vicious conflict that lay beneath the initial expanse of emptiness.

Shanoa's gaze wandered about the room. Rays of sunlight streamed through a large window on the left wall and covered the room in a bright orange glow. Tatiana had mentioned that this was Laura's old bedroom and it was evident that the healer had no intention to convert it into anything else. The room was stripped of personal possessions, but the furniture itself remained. A nightstand stood next to the bed with an unlit oil lamp placed on top. A black lacquered vanity was positioned in a far corner beside a full-length mirror propped up on a stand. Rows of bookshelves were affixed along the walls, but all of them were vacant. The warrior recalled the excessive number of books in every room of Laura's house in conjunction with those she'd seen in the living room. She wondered how the pair had managed to acquire such a vast collection of manuscripts.

Despite its clear lack of use the room had not been abandoned. There was no trace of dust on the furniture, the wood floor was swept, and the sheets had been recently washed. The soap left behind a faint scent of flower petals. Shanoa caught it every so often when she inhaled.

"Does your mother like to clean?" the warrior asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," Laura said with a slight shake of her head. "She keeps the house presentable, but the garden has always been her primary concern. It's her pride and joy, after all." The jeweler looked up at her. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious. She seems to keep this room in good condition despite the fact that no one uses it."

"I did notice that. I wonder why she'd bother," Laura said under her breath, but the warrior heard her regardless.

"She couldn't have known we were coming." Shanoa paused as she chose her next words with care. "Perhaps she's been waiting for you all this time? Maybe she wanted the room to be ready for you when you came back."

"I doubt it." The skepticism in Laura's voice was palpable. "She knew I had no intention of ever coming back to Baia. Even now I'm only here because you need her help." Shanoa could not help the small smile that formed on her lips.

"I think we both know that's a lie," she said. Laura made a disapproving sound, but she did not argue the point.

The conversation lulled as both women became lost in their own thoughts. After a while Shanoa noticed that Laura had fallen asleep; her eyes were closed and her chest moved in a slow, steady rhythm. Her exhaustion came as no surprise to the warrior. Though an exception to the rule, Shanoa knew the adverse effects of mana depletion and how debilitating they could be. The symptoms had stricken many an acolyte when they attempted to master a new Glyph. She'd always made it a point to avoid the infirmary for fear of receiving resentful glares from the afflicted patients. She'd never known that brand of pain. It was one of the unique boons afforded to her as Ecclesia's Blade and just as lacking in an explanation. In the end she attributed her body's ability to rapidly replenish its mana reserves to the same unnamed force that blessed her with the knowledge of Glyphs.

An unsettling thought occurred to her as she dwelled on the other acolytes. She did not know what had become of them. Over the past year the fortress had been slowly vacated as Barlowe anticipated Shanoa's readiness to absorb Dominus. Ecclesia's small community had numbered one hundred people at most, but her status as one of the youngest members meant that all of them were full-grown warriors. The fortress should have been teeming with the frantic energy of battle hungry soldiers, yet near the end it seemed that Ecclesia's only residents were Shanoa and the circle of elders.

Where had everyone gone? It was possible that Barlowe sent them on extensive missions (as he had done with Albus) in order to ensure as little interference as possible while he strived to realize his wicked goals. What lies did Barlowe feed the acolytes in order to maintain their ignorance? Though there was the distinct chance that they had known of his plans – to some degree. The elders supported Barlowe, and all had family within the Order.

The potential that other conspirators still roamed the Earth was a frightening thought. While she still carried the weight of naivety from a lifetime of their influence Shanoa believed that her direct ties to Ecclesia had been severed once Dracula was slain. However, if the other acolytes remained loyal to the Order then they would no doubt seek answers once they learned of Barlowe's death. Eventually they'd trace his demise back to their Blade.

Would they come for her in search of revenge? Shanoa tensed at the thought. It was too much of a risk to leave up to speculation. She'd have to return to the fortress if only to learn the fate of her fellow acolytes. While she was more than capable of defeating her former peers in a fight it was premature to leap to the conclusion that all of them were her enemies. Besides, there were other battles to be fought at present.

Albus had sacrificed himself in exchange for her freedom, and Shanoa would not squander that gift. There were people who needed her. The warrior leaned down and kissed the top of Laura's head. People she loved.

She relaxed as her mind wandered to less troubling places. After a time she glanced out the window and noticed that the Sun had begun to set. She was attempting to discern how long she'd sat there when she heard the floorboards sound their distinctive creak. Shanoa turned her head and saw Tatiana standing in the doorway. The woman studied the unusual trio for a moment. Shanoa noted that, once again, there was no judgment in Tatiana's eyes at the sight of her daughter wrapped in the warrior's arms. She'd been hesitant to believe the healer's declaration that she held no qualms over Shanoa's gender, but Tatiana's eyes were free of disapproval. Despite this, the healer's expression was plagued by distress as her gaze lingered on Laura. It had taken a lot of courage to make such a damning confession, but it remained to be seen what would happen in the aftermath.

"I take it she didn't get much sleep last night," Tatiana said.

"It's not that. She cast a spell while we were out in the backyard." The healer's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why would she do that?" she asked; her voice lined with surprise. Shanoa's expression softened as she ran her fingers through her lover's hair.

"To show me she could." There was a brief pause as Tatiana considered the statement, but did not appear to come to a solid decision on what to make of it.

"I've gathered the materials we need," she said without addressing the previous comment. A large cloth satchel hung at Tatiana's side; the strap looped over her shoulder. She patted the bag as her eyes cut to the window. "The ritual has to be performed outside in order to ensure that the Dark energy will be properly dispersed. If I draw the magic out of the brand while we're indoors it will remain contained within the boundaries of an enclosed space." The hint of a smirk ghosted on Tatiana's lips. "Curses are spiteful bastards like that. They hate to lose." Her expression fell once again into stoicism. "Joking aside, we need to complete the ritual before sundown. Darkness tends to aid the darkness."

Shanoa nodded and shook Laura's shoulder. The jeweler jerked awake; her eyes darted around the room for a moment before she looked up at her lover. Shanoa quickly recounted their plan and Laura responded with a hearty nod. Fenris woke up as they moved to climb out of bed. The giant dog made a disappointed sound, but he stood with a yawn.

Mother and daughter stared at each other in uncomfortable silence for a few moments. The chord of tension snapped in the air between them. Laura glared at her mother as her arms trembled by her sides. Tatiana's demeanor, on the other hand, belayed uncertainty and a sudden streak of meekness. Despite the difference in constitution, both of their expressions begot the same pain, though Shanoa was unsure if either of them recognized it in the other.

Laura was the first to break the stillness with movement and pushed past her mother as she walked into the hall. Tatiana frowned, but she once again suppressed whatever comment it stirred in her mind. Shanoa felt a tightening in her chest and she had to bite her tongue to maintain her silence. She would not be an active participant in this battle. All she'd provide was support; to both of them if necessary. While she had just met Tatiana the warrior found that she rather liked the older woman. The healer's shortcomings were beyond numerous, but there was no doubt that she cared. The thought of Albus again floated through Shanoa's mind. Perhaps the similarity between them was what endeared Tatiana to her. Both of them wrought pain in the wake of their best intentions.

"I've prepared a place in the woods," Tatiana said and Shanoa followed her into the living room. Laura waited for them with her arms crossed over her chest, but she refused to meet her mother's questioning gaze when they passed by. Fenris joined the trio, but Tatiana wagged a finger at him as they approached the back door. "I need you to stay behind." A low whine rose in the dog's throat and she scratched behind his ears. "Don't try to argue with me. You know it's futile. This is for your own good, after all. I don't know if you're capable of resisting Dark magic and I can't risk you getting hurt." Fenris whined again, but sank down to the kitchen floor and watched the women leave without further protest.

No one spoke as Tatiana led them past the garden and into the forest beyond. They walked for a few short minutes before the healer slowed to a halt. There was a large gap in-between the trees, but not quite enough space to be considered a clearing. The underbrush had been cut away and removed which resulted in an uninterrupted circle of fresh dirt about five meters in diameter. Shanoa noted that the soil had been recently tilled; the upturned earth further evidence that the circle was man-made.

"I'm going to need you to undress again," Tatiana said as she reached into the satchel at her side. She withdrew a white cotton scarf and a container made of silver. "You can bind this over your chest, if you wish." She handed the scarf to the warrior. Shanoa turned around and performed the now familiar process. Once the leather straps were released she handed the armor to Laura, rolled her dress down to her hips, and wrapped the scarf around her breasts. She tied it off with a bow that rested just above her heart.

In the meantime, Tatiana had busied herself with another task. A white, granular substance spilled from the silver container as the healer poured it around the edges of the circle. Shanoa stared on in puzzlement for a moment before she realized the white crystals were made of salt. When the ring was complete she instructed Shanoa to stand in the center.

"Here." Tatiana handed her a pair of earrings. They were crafted from a simple design: silver studs set with polished orbs of black onyx. "Dark brands are notoriously stubborn. They put up a fight whenever someone attempts to extract them. The onyx will not only help me drive the magic out, but will prevent the brand from re-forming."

"Re-forming?" Shanoa raised an inquisitive eyebrow as she fixed the studs in her earlobes.

"This curse has a mind of its own, so to speak. Whoever cast it wanted to ensure that the brand remained seared into your flesh for as long as possible. They instilled the essence of that willpower and determination into the brand. Once I release it the curse will attempt to reclaim its hold on you."

"How comforting," Shanoa muttered with a frown. Tatiana gave her a reassuring smile.

"Don't fret too much. The spell caster did not anticipate my interference." There was a gleeful glint in Tatiana's eyes. The hungry sheen of a predator poised to ambush her unsuspecting prey. "Their brand is not strong enough to resist me." Shanoa took solace in the healer's confidence and nodded.

The assurance was short-lived as Tatiana retrieved a roll of bandages and a small medical kit from the satchel. She handed both to Laura. A flash of worry crossed the jeweler's face as she took them, but she maintained her silence. The final item Tatiana pulled from the bag was a glass bottle filled with a thick, bright red mixture.

"Should I expend too much mana when removing the brand this potion will restore enough energy for me to stop the subsequent bleeding. The bandages are just a precaution." Shanoa gulped as the sound of her rapid heartbeat pounded in her ears. She tried to assure herself that Tatiana knew what she was doing, but it was difficult to quell the ugly memories that stirred within her. The healer noted Shanoa's obvious agitation. "You seem nervous."

"I've had some bad experiences when it comes to rituals," Shanoa said with a frown. She felt the skin of her back and upper arms prickle at the thought of Dominus, the idol, and those wicked spears. Tatiana placed a comforting hand on the warrior's tense shoulder.

"I won't let any harm come to you."

Shanoa braced herself as the ritual began. Her blue eyes remained transfixed on the woman before her as Tatiana summoned the familiar white light into the palms of her hands. Silence settled over the trio as the healer concentrated. After a few minutes the light blossomed into a healthy glow that pulsed with a steady rhythm. Tatiana rested her hands over the afflicted flesh. Shanoa was able to relax a bit as she felt the magic radiate from the healer. It provided a soothing feeling; one that beckoned the familiarity of warmth. It settled into her skin, but the warrior's gut lurched when the brand responded with violent intent.

For the first time she felt the touch of the Dark magic that comprised the brand. It had so far been a silent presence, but now the energy twisted in her flesh as it writhed in protest against the light that sought it out. A mass of snakes slithered within her abdomen. Their chorded bodies lashed as they attempted to retreat deeper inside their host. Her stomach flipped and she was forced to suppress the bile that rose in her throat. A part of her entertained the idea of pulling away from the offending light, but Shanoa knew better than to indulge the urge.

White tendrils sprouted from Tatiana's hands and they flowed into the warrior's flesh. Their touch, unlike the curse, did not inflict any pain. They hooked into the vile brand and after a couple moments of initial struggle Tatiana began to pull the Dark energy out.

Shanoa gasped as the curse clung to her in desperation. The afflicted area lit up in a fiery pain, but she endured it with a grimace. She absent-mindedly wondered just how agonizing an ordeal the ritual would be without Ecclesia's training. It _hurt_. A physical experience that – she realized – now felt foreign to her. The pain continued throughout the slow, drawn out extraction. Tatiana's face furrowed in intense concentration as she pulled her arms backwards inch by inch. After an indeterminate amount of time she paused, curled her hands into fists, and ripped the brand out of Shanoa.

A strangled cry escaped the warrior's throat as she felt something tear away from her stomach. She looked down and saw a shadow, black as the void, spill out of her abdomen. It rose up before Tatiana and Shanoa's heart pounded as the shadow took on a familiar form. A vicious beast – its appearance a mixture of ursine and canine features – wreathed in curling darkness. Its jowls opened wide and the fanged teeth glinted with intent as it snarled at the healer, but Tatiana did not flinch under its threat. Shanoa tried to channel a Glyph into her arms out of fear that Blackmore's shadow would attempt to mount an attack against Tatiana, yet the incantation refused to solidify.

"BEGONE!" Tatiana shouted and flung her arms out to the side as she banished the creature. The beast let out a bellowing roar as the twisted shadows began to dissipate at her command. It clawed at the sky and thrashed in vain, but could not halt its demise. At last it was reduced to a cloud of thin black smoke before a gust of wind dispersed Blackmore's final remnants.

Tatiana crumpled to the ground in exhaustion. Shanoa glanced down at her abdomen and – as predicted – blood seeped from fresh teeth marks left in the wake of the brand. She raised a hand to cover the wounds but convulsed with a high-pitched shriek as unbridled pain barreled through her. The warrior gasped in confusion before another shockwave knocked her to the forest floor. She gripped her abdomen with both hands and within seconds they were coated in blood. It was bleeding too profusely for a surface wound. Her vision blurred as she sought out Tatiana. She got a brief glimpse of the healer as she reached a shaky hand towards the vial that had fallen off to the side when she collapsed.

Shanoa was blinded as the pain consumed her. The ability to cry out was stricken from her as her entire body writhed in agony. What was this pain? It was the product of something much more severe than a mere wound. It surged within her; an unknown entity that seemed for all the world intent on killing the warrior. On the fringe of her consciousness she recognized the sensation as akin to the accursed potion Barlowe forced her to consume. Shanoa thought she heard someone call her name off in the distance, but she was too overwhelmed to determine if the sound had been real.

_What in God's name is this? It can't be the curse! It can't be-_

A spear of warmth suddenly pierced through the all-encompassing pain. Its presence was minimal at first, but steadily grew in intensity. The pain receded enough for her vision to clear and Shanoa realized that she was sprawled on her back upon the upturned soil. Her lungs clamored for air as she looked towards the source of the warmth. Laura knelt over her in concentration. The familiar tendrils of white light sprouted from her hands as they mended the warrior's flesh. She felt the tendrils flow deeper, felt them seek out the source of this terrible agony, and then welcome respite as Laura drove it from her body.

"Laura…" Shanoa was barely able to get the name past her lips, but the jeweler did not acknowledge her. Laura pressed on in unwavering determination. The warrior floated on the feeling of blessed relief. She could not tell how long the process lasted. For a moment the mysterious pain intensified as it snapped over the surface of her skin before it dissipated in the same manner as the shadow beast.

The jeweler cried out as she finished her task and collapsed on the ground next to Shanoa. She lay unmoving in the dirt. Her skin had turned a sickly pale hue and was covered in a layer of sweat.

"Laura!" Tatiana's voice rose in a wail as she scrambled to her daughter's side. "Laura!" She attempted to rouse the jeweler, but received no response. Shanoa's heart sank in her chest as she forced herself into a sitting position. Her arms trembled as they fought to support her weight. Tatiana shook her head and rolled her daughter over until she lay on her back. "Her mana, it was too much." The healer uncorked the glass vial with shaking hands and beckoned to Shanoa. "Hold her mouth open!" The younger woman did as instructed without hesitation and Tatiana poured the contents of the bottle down Laura's throat.

Fear and panic gripped Shanoa as the haze of pain faded and was replaced by sudden comprehension as the severity of the moment dawned on her. Her chest heaved as she stared down at her lover. Laura looked like… like…

_A corpse._

_No!_ She wrapped her hands in the front of Laura's dress and vigorously shook her. _Not again! You're not supposed to leave me!_

No one else she loved would die in order to protect her! It wasn't a fair sacrifice!

Her mind whirled as she tried to determine her options. She had to do something- no, she _could_ do something! She was the Blade, God damn it! She was –

Laura's eyes opened with a ragged gasp. Tatiana made a delighted sound and cradled her daughter's head in her hands. The jeweler's amber eyes flooded with relief when they found Shanoa and the warrior felt her heart shatter. The splintered pieces pierced the inside of her chest.

"What in God's name were you thinking?" Tatiana's voice was harsh with disapproval and utter weariness. She had to take a few deep breaths before she could continue. "It was too much. Your heart stopped." Tears rolled down the healer's cheeks. "You could have killed yourself!"

"I… had to…" Laura said in a whisper. Her gaze remained transfixed on Shanoa.

"This is why I gave you the bandages! So you could treat her wound without using your magic." Tatiana gestured to the medical supplies that lay discarded on the ground several feet away.

"There was… something more." Laura's chest heaved from the effort it took to speak. "Some remnant of darkness that remained planted within her. I- I had to remove it… and you looked so weak…"

"Yes, and that's why I brought the potion!" The jeweler shook her head at her mother's argument.

"She was in so much pain." The relief in Laura's eyes was replaced by a sudden flare of determination. "I couldn't just stand by and watch as someone I love suffered."

Shanoa bowed her head as she failed to formulate a response to her lover's declaration. Her hands tightened their grip on Laura's dress and she felt the jeweler cover them with her own.

It had almost happened again.

"I know that look," Tatiana said with a weak laugh.

"What do you mean?" Laura asked. The healer's lips curved into a small smile as she stared down at her daughter.

"The look in your eyes just now: it's that familiar Belmont resolve. A force of will strong enough to bring the world to its knees, and is impossible to argue with."

IXI

The ouroboros would eat its fill tonight.

She took purchase once more in the branches of a tall, sturdy tree. The shade of the leaves offered shelter from the waning sunlight, but she kept the brown cloak wrapped around her body for the sake of camouflage. She'd be clearly visible amongst the foliage without it. Her pale, stark white figure all but glowed even in the dim light of dusk.

It was difficult to determine where everything had gone wrong. Her spell had failed. When it became evident that the tether would be severed she'd sough to implant her own seed of Darkness in the Blade. The last remnants of his brand amplified her powers, but it was futile in the end.

Her purple eyes cut to the weakened trio huddled below her. Deep down she felt a spark of temptation to descend and achieve her victory in one fell blow, but she knew better. Her mission dictated that she stayed her hand until the preparations were complete. The time to act had not yet come, but somehow the vain gypsy managed to thwart her efforts.

True, she noted as her eyes lingered on the prostrate woman, her success came at great expense, but the connection remained severed. It was an unanticipated outcome. Such power had to come from somewhere and she wondered about the gypsy's lineage. There was a clear familial connection between her and the older woman. The latter had also proved formidable in her own right. Strong magic flowed in their veins, but she had felt a dormant might when the gypsy drove her out. It seemed that the vain girl was not as commonplace as she'd thought.

A curious sort of development, indeed.

It was time for her to make a decision. She'd devised to a wait a few months before she sprung her trap so that the Blade could relax into a somewhat normal life; to let Shanoa feel the full embrace of a newfound love, but now that posed too much of a risk. She could not hunt without the Darkness. However, given time, the havoc wrought by her mission would be more severe. So far she'd watched Shanoa for strategic purposes in order to gather the information she needed to create a devastating comeuppance.

The ouroboros devoured another surge of emotion.

She would not be able to bear the anticipation of an extended wait without the aid of the ring, but already its hunger had grown. She'd fed it too much sustenance within such a short amount of time. While the brand remained intact she could keep her distance, wait without constant observation, but now that could not be, and the ouroboros would feast on more than her emotions if it became ravenous enough.

Ultimately, her choice was an easy one.

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> I am a slow storyteller. Though it has more to do with how much I have to say rather than the pace I set. There are times, however, where I feel like it's easy to forget that there _is_ an overall plot taking place and this story isn't just one long character study. I'm excited to at last stand on the cusp of revealing what I've been building up to for one hundred and sixty thousand words.


	21. Lurid Fear

**Author's note:** Konami has been making some questionable decisions as of late, but at least they can't cancel a fan-work.

* * *

><p>Chapter Twenty One<p>

_Lurid Fear_

Laura lacked the strength to walk on her own and they had to carry her back to the house. The tired pair slung the jeweler's arms around their shoulders, though Shanoa carried the brunt of her lover's weight. Laura tried to help them as best she could, but her legs were weak and she stumbled quite a bit. Tatiana did not make any comment on her own exhaustion. The healer had begun to recover from her spell casting, but there was a tired gait in her step that transcended the effects of physical exertion. In addition, hard lines had formed on Tatiana's face that made her look much older than she was. Yet the woman pressed on, and Shanoa was struck once again by just how much she loved her daughter.

Fenris hadn't moved from his spot on the kitchen floor. He stood with a bark of excitement when they burst through the door, but his ears fell back against his head as he sensed their urgency. Shanoa helped Laura into a nearby chair while Tatiana broke away to search through one of the cabinets. The jeweler almost fell forward onto the table and Shanoa cradled Laura's head in an attempt to keep her lover upright.

"You need to stay awake," the warrior said. Laura's eyes rolled from side to side in a languid motion and she had some trouble meeting Shanoa's gaze. The jeweler's pupils were dilated to such an extreme that the blackness threatened to consume her amber irises.

"Why do I feel so empty?" Laura asked in a raspy voice. Shanoa paused for a moment. The fear she'd felt at the sight of her lover's deathly condition had been joined by turbulent anger, but Shanoa was never one to let her emotions get the best of her.

"Because you did a foolish thing and almost drained your body of mana." Though she maintained emotional control the warrior did not conceal the chastisement in her tone.

"It wasn't foolish," the jeweler said with a slight shake of her head. Shanoa frowned.

"Laura-"

"Found it!" Tatiana said as she pulled an old wooden box from one of the cabinets. It contained a collection of glass vials filled with familiar red liquid. The healer carried the box over to the table and the vials rattled with a few sharp clinks as she set it down. Tatiana selected the biggest vial and uncorked it. "Tilt your head back." Laura did as instructed and parted her lips. Tatiana slowly poured the mixture into her daughter's mouth. Laura had some difficulty swallowing, but managed to consume the entire draught. The jeweler coughed once the vial was emptied. It was an ugly sound, but her skin no longer looked pallid.

"I think I'm going to need a few more of those," Laura said with a poor attempt at a wry smile. Tatiana rolled her eyes.

"Give it a minute. Even with the aid of a potion your mana still needs some time to replenish." The jeweler groaned and clutched at her chest.

"I'd forgotten what this feels like."

"Well, this is the first time you've expended that much mana at once." Tatiana frowned. "You were always a reckless child, but never in regards to magic." Laura glowered at her mother, but fell silent. Tatiana waited a couple minutes before she selected another vial and helped her daughter drink its contents. The potion allowed some of the jeweler's strength to return and by the time Laura finished drinking she was able to hold herself up without assistance. The warrior moved away in order to allow Tatiana full access to her impromptu patient.

Shanoa's emotional control slipped as she watched her lover. Her arms hung rigid at her sides and her hands balled into tight fists. The warrior failed to keep her displeasure from her expression. Her brow furrowed and her lips contorted into a grimace. She held her tongue for as long as she could, but it was not enough to stem the urge to speak out.

"I wish you hadn't done that," Shanoa said in a voice permeated by a concoction of anger and fear. Laura turned and looked up at her in bewilderment.

"I had to do something." The jeweler's voice had regained some of its usual strength, but that was a small comfort.

"Then you should have aided your mother. Instead you needlessly put yourself at risk."

"It wasn't needless," Laura said with some insistence. "You were bleeding out."

"That's all the more reason why Tatiana should have been the one to heal me." Shanoa felt her arms tremble. "I saw how much energy it took for you to close a small cut. It's no wonder that your heart stopped." There was a small flicker of guilt across the jeweler's face, but her expression quickly settled into stubborn resistance.

"There was no time to stop and think. I had to make a choice, and in the end I believe it was the right one."

"God damn it, Laura, you almost died!" The cry flew unbidden from Shanoa's mouth. "What makes it worse is that you put yourself in danger because you were trying to save me!" There was a beat of heavy silence at the implication in her words, yet the greater weight lay in their truth.

"You think I wouldn't die for you?" Laura asked in disbelief. Shanoa hated the honesty of her response. It was a declaration she knew all too well.

"Enough people already have!" The warrior's voice broke and she winced at the sound of it. Shanoa turned away as a shudder coursed through her. She took a moment to collect herself before she glanced back at her lover. "My life is not worth more than yours. I've already buried Albus; please do not make me bury you."

"Shanoa…"

"I can't do that." The warrior fled from the kitchen before she dissolved into an emotional mess. Once she was safe in the relative privacy of the hallway she leaned her head against the wall and took a few deep breaths. The soothing action helped, but could not resolve the source of her distress. Shanoa's ears pricked up at the rustle of fabric and she turned her head towards the doorway as Tatiana walked up to her. The lines in the healer's face had begun to recede, though a bone-deep weariness remained in her expression. Her eyes, however, reflected great sympathy.

"We all do foolish things when we're young," Tatiana said in a quiet voice, "but I suppose you already knew that." Shanoa shook her head.

"That's no excuse."

"Perhaps, but it's the only way we learn." A small smile played on the older woman's face. "Maturity requires having experienced some amount of failure." Shanoa opened her mouth to present an argument, but found she had no real desire to. Instead she exhaled a weary sigh.

"I've told Laura that I don't want her to shoulder my pain."

"Restraint has never been one of my daughter's strong points, though I'm sure you're aware of that by now." Tatiana glanced towards the kitchen. "Her emotions can easily get the best of her."

"That's part of the problem. I can't identify with her on that point. I don't react on emotional impulse. When I'm faced with a crisis I approach it with a logical response." Shanoa's brows pinched together and she cringed. "So I can't understand why she…" The words caught in her throat. The warrior was not even sure how she wanted to finish that sentence. Tatiana placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"It's been an arduous day for all of us." For the first time that afternoon the healer's tone carried the full weight of her exhaustion. "At times like this the greatest boon can be something as simple as a warm bath. Your body has been purged of the brand, and clean water will help ensure it stays that way." Tatiana gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. "I drew a bath for you before we left. It's my professional advice that you take advantage of it."

"If you insist," Shanoa said with a nod. "Thank you." The healer gave her a warm smile, and for a moment she looked exactly like her daughter.

"Go through the door on the right, across from Laura's room. I also left you some clean clothes to change into. Just let me know if they don't fit."

Shanoa followed her directions and walked to the bathroom. She was not surprised to find that the room itself was quite pretty. This was a family who appreciated pleasing aesthetics as much as they adored written text. The floor was covered in light gray tiles that swirled with black marbled patterns. A porcelain sink was built into the right wall with a mirror fixed above it. A slatted window across from the door let in sunlight without affording a view to anyone standing outside. On her left was a bathtub full of clear water. Wisps of steam wafted up from the water's surface. Some folded clothes were placed on top of a chair in the corner, but Shanoa's attention did not linger on them. She closed the door behind her and pressed her back against it. Rough cloth scratched against the base of her neck and the warrior deduced she had found the towels.

Her eyelids slid closed at the presence of an unbidden vision. She tried to push the memory from her mind, but sheer force of will could not erase the past.

_She stood over Albus' lifeless body. What little she had witnessed of his character presented a charismatic – albeit misguided – man, but that same confident energy did not reflect in his corpse. He lay twisted in an awkward position; a pool of blood grew underneath him as the liquid continued to gush from the hole she had lanced in his chest. His skin had quickly lost its color, and his body adopted the pale shade she had observed in the other corpses she'd created. Albus' lips were still parted. The last syllable of a name forever left unspoken._

"_Shano…"_

A few tears ran down her cheeks before the warrior shook her head and dispelled the memory. She pushed herself off the door and took a few forceful steps towards the bathtub. She had killed Albus' body, but not his soul. That was at least some comfort, and he had forgiven her that atrocity in the end.

Shanoa started to undress. A cleanse was just what she needed.

IXI

Laura did not overhear the conversation between her mother and Shanoa, nor did she attempt to eavesdrop. Her mind reeled both from exhaustion and the words that her lover had said. The jeweler opened her palms and looked down at her wrists. The blue veins she had studied in childhood were pronounced underneath her pale skin. A flush of color had begun to return, but she still retained the appearance of a corpse. A heavy lump rose in her throat.

"Am I really that selfish?" she wondered out loud. Fenris made a pained whine, but she was hard pressed to agree with his assurance of her character. The curtain rustled again and she glanced up as her mother reentered the room. Tatiana clicked her tongue as she walked over to her daughter. The healer's fingers twiddled a moment before she selected another vial from the crowded box.

"You should try to drink this on your own," Tatiana said and handed the glass bottle to her. Laura did not object and drank its contents while her mother took a seat next to her at the table. Once the jeweler was finished she placed the empty vial down with a hollow thud. Her face pinched at the bitter aftertaste the mixture left in her mouth.

"Can't you do something to make these potions more palatable?" she asked.

"Medicine isn't supposed to taste delicious." Tatiana took the emptied vial and placed it next to the other discarded containers. "Otherwise it would encourage people to get sick just so they'd have a reason to drink it."

"That sounds like a convenient excuse to avoid changing the recipe," Laura said with a frown. Tatiana sighed in consternation.

"If you want to experiment with the flavor then you could try making your own."

"Potions are not my talent."

"It seems there's a lot of things you believe aren't your talent." The jeweler cast her mother a sidelong glance.

"A talent is something you need to be willing to indulge," Laura said. "Crafting jewelry suits me just fine. It's the only skill that's actually brought me some joy." There was an uncomfortable pause as Tatiana opened her mouth to offer a retort, but thought better of it. The healer settled into a displeased expression before she sighed and glanced towards the hallway.

"That woman thinks the world of you," Tatiana said. A dull ache pulsed in Laura's chest.

"I know, and I her."

"It's natural to want to protect the ones we love, but that's not always within our power." If her mother's intention was to offer consolation its effect was the opposite. A flare of bitter anger overwhelmed the empty ache in her chest, but could not consume it.

"Is that why you didn't protect me?" she asked in an accusing tone. Tatiana did not look away from her, though Laura had difficulty meeting her mother's eyes.

"We protected you from many things, including the fear of being hunted." There was a tangible pain behind Tatiana's expression, and for some reason it made Laura feel guilty. "You don't know how many times we were almost discovered. How many nights I laid awake in terror while your father stood a vigilant guard against potential intruders or, God forbid, assassins. The danger we still face is an ever-present one, but Abel and I did our best to keep it a secret from you. No child should have to grow up wary of everyone they meet." Tatiana's bottom lip quivered slightly, but the healer did not seem to notice it. "To that point we accepted the hatred you felt towards us. Hating two people was a better alternative than hating the whole world."

Laura watched her mother for a long moment. She tried to muster her anger into some form of action, be it verbal or physical, but it failed to yield anything other than the emotional bite. At last she groaned and shook her head.

"This would be so much easier if I could hate you," the jeweler said in a voice that was barely above a whisper; Tatiana's eyes widened in surprise.

"I'm… not sure how, exactly, I should respond to that statement." Her lips curved into a soft smile. "Still, I'm glad you don't hate me."

"I don't think I can forgive you, though."

"I can live with that," Tatiana said with a nod. "It's probably the best I could have hoped for given the circumstances."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" Laura was surprised by the pain reflected in her own voice.

"I hadn't decided. You've been gone for a long time, and I didn't want to drive you away again if you suddenly came back." Her mother took on a sympathetic expression. She reached out and brushed aside a stray curl that had fallen in front of Laura's eyes. The jeweler flinched, but did not move away. "I can't say I blame you for leaving. This place has done some horrible things to you. Still, you are my daughter, and a simple letter from time to time would have been welcome." Laura's gaze shifted to the table.

"There was nothing to say."

"On the contrary, there's a lot that needs to be said. That much is clear now more than ever."

"How can I possibly trust you after what you've done?" The jeweler's tone echoed the emotional void she had felt earlier.

"That's up to you to decide," Tatiana said. "All I ask for is a chance." Laura didn't offer a response. It would take time for her to determine if she was even willing to give her mother the chance she requested. She decided to steer the conversation in another direction, instead.

"Are you truly not disgusted by the fact that I'm in love with another woman?"

"Well, it's not the first time this has happened," Tatiana said with a smirk. Laura shot her a cold glare at the reference to Natasha, but the healer continued undeterred. "This world is not starved for atrocities committed by terrible people. Humans have great capacity for evil, but there is always room for love. It's an emotion with many facets, and while I may not understand the nature of your affections, I will never condemn it."

Laura's expression sobered and she studied her mother for a long moment. Tatiana did not regard her with judgment or disapproval. The woman's eyes lacked the wicked sheen shared by those who saw Laura as tainted by abnormal desires. A wave of regret broke over the jeweler and her face twisted into a grimace as she buried her head in her hands.

"I thought I was doing the right thing," Laura said with a gasp.

"As did I."

Another uncomfortable silence passed between them. Tatiana uncorked a fourth vial and handed it to her daughter. Laura swallowed its contents in a single gulp.

IXI

The warm bath felt wonderful. The frigid temperature of the water in the mountain stream had reduced the length of her bath the previous day to a scant few minutes. Now, however, she could take her time and relax. It had required more effort than usual to wash her voluminous hair. She'd used half a bottle of shampoo in the process and it left the surface of the water obscured by frothy bubbles. Wet strands of hair clung to the back of her neck as she ran the lavender scented bar of soap over her arms.

Every so often her abdomen throbbed with a dull ache, but the warm water soothed away her tension. Shanoa had gazed at her bare stomach for a few minutes once she'd taken off her clothes. Her skin showed no trace of the Dark brand. Whatever magic comprised the curse no longer had a hold on her, but she couldn't linger on the sight for too long without being reminded of what it'd almost cost.

She bade herself not to think about the near price of her freedom. The issue would still be there when the bath was finished, yet she couldn't help an involuntary shiver at the icy fear that still clung to her heart.

"_You think I wouldn't die for you?"_

_I don't want you to._

Shanoa started when someone knocked on the bathroom door. The bar of soap slipped out of her hand and landed in the water with a loud plop.

"Yes?" the warrior asked as she leaned over and fished around blindly for the soap. The film of white bubbles prevented her from seeing where it had fallen.

"Can I come in?" It was Laura's voice. Shanoa froze as she was struck by a peculiar surge of emotion. A lustful desire fueled by despair and accentuated by the fact that she was, at present, naked. The warrior did not know what to make of it. She glanced down at herself in confusion. How did she want to answer that request? Her body was not visible below the water line, and she did wish to become more comfortable with Laura seeing her in a state of undress.

"You can," Shanoa said at last. Laura entered without another word. The warrior immediately diverted her eyes away from her lover as she felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Shanoa abandoned her search for the soap and sank further into the bathtub. She watched Laura in her peripheral as the jeweler closed the door behind her with a click.

"I hope I'm not intruding."

"You're not," the warrior said as she crossed her arms over her chest despite the fact that it was submerged underneath the water. Laura's arms hung rigid at her sides, though her hands repeatedly clenched and relaxed.

"I just… I wanted to apologize," she said in a meek voice. "I didn't mean to make you worry." Shanoa's eyes flicked momentarily to the older woman. Laura had almost fully recovered from her spell casting. She could stand upright on her own and the color had returned to her flesh, though a familiar exhaustion remained in her appearance. Her eyes were drained of their usual liveliness and her shoulders were slumped under a heavy weight.

"I worry about you the same way you worry about me," Shanoa said. "I don't want to see you get hurt, especially on my behalf." A long beat of silence passed between them.

"You make me feel so powerless sometimes," Laura said with a shuddering breath. The pain in her voice made the warrior pivot on reflex and she looked directly at her lover. There was a wry expression on the jeweler's face and the hint of a smirk in the corners of her lips. Something new had overtaken the weariness in Laura's eyes; a defeated sheen that bespoke of regret. The shift in conversation caught Shanoa off guard and she opened her mouth to comment on it, but the jeweler continued before she could speak.

"You're a formidable warrior, and it can be intimidating to stand in your presence. I don't know if you realize that. There are times, even outside of combat, where I'm left in awe of the extent of your power. I'm just a mere human in comparison." Laura shook her head and her bitter smirk became more pronounced. "Yes, I have some combination of gifted ancestry, but I don't have the ability to bend the elements to my will. I can't form a blade out of thin air or conjure flames at whim. I'm restricted in so many ways, but when I saw you in pain I knew that there was something that I _could_ do." The jeweler met her gaze, and once again Shanoa was struck by the raw vulnerability in her amber eyes. "You've protected me so many times in the past, and just once I wanted to protect you in return."

"You _have_ protected me, Laura," the warrior said in earnest. She sat upright in the bathtub, though most of her body remained submerged. "You're the one who guided me through my grief. You saved me from losing myself in that despair."

"And yet it's apparent that, in my mind, I don't believe it's enough. I seem to think that protecting the ones I love has to happen in a physical sense." Shanoa saw the burden of heroic ancestors flash in Laura's eyes. "Maybe it's the Belmont in me searching for the warfront I never found."

"Wars can also be fought with words."

"That's hard for a bloodline whose sole purpose is to breed warriors to reconcile with." Laura's jaw set and she looked away. "I'm not a killer, but I still feel an inherited desire for vengeance. It's what I've been fighting against my entire life, and it's always trying to undermine the victories I've achieved through pacifism."

"It doesn't matter who your ancestors were. They're dead, and it's your turn to decide what it means to be a Belmont." Shanoa's voice sounded strange to her own ears. It carried a tone that she'd only produced when she condemned Barlowe and later his Dark Lord. She spoke with noble dignity; her words accentuated by the true depth of her age. There was no trace of her naivety in that moment. What remained was a warrior who gazed upon the construct of the universe and molded those forces to her will.

Laura had seen the shift. She stood in awe of it for a few seconds before she managed to voice a thought.

"You might be a one-time anomaly." Even as the jeweler said the words Shanoa could hear that she didn't fully believe them. "Someone still needs to take up the mantle."

"That may be, but you are not the only Belmont." A strange silence followed the declaration. Conflict swarmed in Laura's eyes as she wrestled with an obvious decision. After a few moments Shanoa resolved to choose for her. "Come here," the warrior said with an outstretched arm.

That was all the encouragement Laura required. She crossed the room in a few brisk strides and dropped to her knees on the tile floor. Shanoa grabbed the front of her collar as she pulled the jeweler into a kiss. Laura responded with surprising fervor and it struck the warrior that she wasn't the only one experiencing a strange form of fear-induced lust.

"You've taught me well." Shanoa broke the kiss with a whisper. The jeweler looked at her with a recognizable feral glint in her eyes.

"In regards to what, exactly?" she asked in a voice that confirmed what the younger woman already deduced.

"So many things." Shanoa willed herself to stay on the topic at hand despite how tempting it was to disregard all further conversation. "But especially when it comes to emotions. I'm just echoing truths you've already told me. People control their own fates, and you are no exception to the rule. You know this, now it's time for you to believe it." A softer emotion momentarily replaced the primal look in Laura's amber eyes.

"I think I'm starting to."

"Then I can't ask for more," the warrior said with a smile. Laura's mouth curved into a sly grin before she captured her lover's lips in another kiss. The water splashed as Shanoa sat up, too beside herself to realize that her bare chest was now exposed above its surface. She gripped Laura's head in her hands under a surge of unanticipated confidence. A moan escaped the jeweler's throat as she parted her lips and met Shanoa's insistent tongue with her own. They found it then: the blessed synchronism that banished all coherent thought from the warrior's mind and left only the singular awareness of movement in its wake. All that she was became consumed by this tandem dance and Shanoa wanted nothing more than to indulge it for as long as possible.

Laura was the first to pull away, and only after the kiss was broken did the warrior realize she was leaning over her lover. At some point Shanoa had risen to her knees in the bathtub.

"You know, it's funny," Laura said with a coy grin.

"What is?"

"You don't seem to care about the fact that you're naked." She laughed as the younger woman dropped down into the water with a sudden yelp. A blush burned Shanoa's cheeks, but at the same time she didn't feel the total embarrassment she'd come to expect.

"Well you didn't have to call attention to it," the warrior said with a pout.

"Weren't we just talking about progress?"

"I think there's been plenty of progress considering I even let you through the door."

"Fair enough." Laura leaned forward and gave her lover a quick kiss on the cheek. "Do you want me to leave?" The question struck a peculiar chord inside the warrior.

"I'm… not sure. Part of me wants you to go, but on the other hand I also… want you to join me." That unanticipated surge of confidence sparked back to life as Laura regarded her with a heady gaze. "The latter might be the more insistent of the two."

"That _is_ encouraging." The jeweler played her fingers across Shanoa's collarbone and the younger woman shivered in response.

"However, I do have to finish bathing before the water gets cold, and you are the ultimate distraction."

"A distraction is not always a bad thing, but I see your point," Laura said with a grin. "Besides, the last thing I want is my mother walking in on us." Shanoa winced.

"I don't think I'd ever be able to recover from that."

"My sentiments exactly." The jeweler winked at her. "Perhaps we can continue this at a later date." Laura stood up and walked over to the door, but paused at the sound of Shanoa's voice.

"I don't want you to die for me," the warrior said. "I want both of us to live for a long time." Laura glanced at her with the weight of guilt once again evident in her eyes.

"As do I." Her voice wavered on the short phrase.

"Promise me you won't ever do anything like that again."

"I promise." It was a sincere declaration, and the warrior knew she would not fail to uphold it. Laura left before either of them could concoct another excuse for a delay.

IXI

Shanoa tugged on the collar of her shirt as she walked out of the bathroom. The borrowed clothes were tailored to fit a curvier form and as such left a bit too much room around her bust and hips. It was a casual outfit consisting of dark pants and a beige long-sleeved shirt with a white camisole underneath. Their simple design made them perfect for lounging about the house, but not public affairs. A pair of thick wool socks kept her feet warm on the cool hardwood floor. Her freshly combed hair was still damp and spots of moisture collected where dark, wet strands touched the beige shirt.

The living room was empty, though a pile of wood stacked inside the nearby stove had been set alight. She paused for a moment in confusion before she heard movement in the kitchen. Shanoa found the unusual trio on the other side of the drawn curtain. Tatiana stood next to the counter with her back to the warrior. Fenris waited at her side; his tail wagged in excitement as he watched his master arrange food on a platter. Laura was setting three places at the table and looked up with a smile when Shanoa entered.

"I'm not used to seeing you in pants," the jeweler said. Shanoa's lips curved in a lopsided grin.

"You'd be surprised how often I wear them."

"I should hope so. The look suits you." Her feral energy from earlier did not appear to have waned and Laura's eyes wandered over the younger woman's body with something more devious than approval gleaming in their amber depths.

"Is that an unbiased opinion?" Shanoa asked. The jeweler chuckled in response.

"You know me; I'm brutally honest when it comes to physical appearance."

"That's true." The warrior looked down at herself. "I'd wear pants exclusively if given the choice. They offer greater mobility than a dress, but I always receive strange looks whenever I wear them in public." Her voice dropped to a murmur. "Apparently people aren't used to seeing a woman's legs covered by anything but a skirt."

"I don't think anyone in Wygol would judge you for it," Laura said.

"Then I'll have to keep that in mind when I rebuild my wardrobe."

"You don't have any clothes?" Tatiana asked. The healer turned her head to the side as she spoke.

"Technically I do, but I didn't feel it was pertinent to take them with me into Dracula's castle. In order to retrieve them I'd have to go back to Ecclesia, and I'm hesitant to do that." The healer nodded.

"Bad memories, I assume?"

"Almost exclusively." A slight frown tugged at Shanoa's mouth. Tatiana rotated her body until she could look directly at the warrior.

"That's a pity," she said. Tatiana's eyes flicked momentarily to her daughter. Shanoa almost missed it, but it was there.

"Do you need any help?" the warrior asked. "I feel like a third wheel."

"Nonsense." Tatiana waved her hand. "You're my guest, after all."

"And what am I?" Laura asked. There was a half-hearted attempt at an objection in her tone.

"You're family, that's all the reason I need to enlist your-" Tatiana was interrupted by the sound of a heavy knock on the front door. The three women paused as the vibrations from the demanding impact thrummed through the walls. Laura gave her mother a questioning look, but the healer seemed just as confused as her guests.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Laura asked.

"No…" A second knock resounded, this one more insistent than the first. Tatiana frowned, but exited the kitchen to greet her uninvited guest. Fenris did not follow her. His attention was still focused on the food that awaited him upon the counter. He rose up on his hind legs to get a better look at it, but Laura said a sharp command and he dropped back down to the floor. The two women listened intently as they heard the front door open. The curtain blocked their line of sight into the living room and muffled the sound just enough to make the conversation that followed inaudible.

"Laura!" A new voice called from the direction of the open door. It was masculine and unfamiliar to Shanoa, but the lively color they'd worked so hard to restore all at once drained from the jeweler's face. Her entire body grew tense at the sound of it. Laura stepped forward, though, despite her sudden rigidity. Her expression cast in an unreadable expression as she was caught in a hypnotic daze unlike anything Shanoa had ever seen before.

"Laura?" the warrior asked.

"Just stay here. I'll take care of it." Her voice did not convey the mere trace of confidence, but Shanoa was too caught off-guard by her sudden change in demeanor point it out. She watched Laura leave along the same path that her mother took. The warrior fidgeted as she heard the conversation resume, but she was just barely too far away to distinguish the words.

She glanced at Fenris as he made a pained sound. He'd turned away from the food and looked up at her with his head cocked to the side in befuddlement. The gleam in his bright blue eyes asked a silent question.

"She told me to wait," Shanoa said in response. She cringed when she realized her mistake. "Why am I trying to argue with a dog?" Fenris whined at her insult and the sound was enough to make her feel guilty. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I'm just more accustomed to conversing with cats."

Fenris walked over to the doorway and stuck his head around the edge of the curtain. After a few moments he turned and looked up at Shanoa. His eyes now pleaded with her to do something. What, exactly, she couldn't say, but it was enough to convince her that she should take a more decisive action than waiting.

"All right, but if I get in trouble I'm placing all the blame on you," she said.

Shanoa crept silently into the hallway. She crossed to the other side in a quick stride and pressed her body against the opposite wall. Once the warrior was sure she'd remained unnoticed she chanced a quick glance around the corner. Laura and Tatiana stood near the front door along with two men she didn't recognize.

The strangers struck her as an odd pair. One man was huge in regards to both bulk and height; he was quite possibly taller than Eugen. His arms were sculpted into bulges of hard muscle, but that prowess was offset by his pronounced gut. The man's square facial features had a rough texture and were cut with hard lines from years of working under the hot sun. He tried to pass off his stance as complacent, but his body was tensed by heightened nerves. Shanoa recognized the intent in his taut physique: he was a man poised in anticipation of a fight.

The second man was much shorter – almost miniscule – in comparison to everyone else in the room. He had to tilt his head back to look Laura in the eyes. The man was old, but his face remained untouched by grit. Even the wrinkles that creased his face carried the smooth contour of a sheltered life. What remained of his thinning hair was stark white. He was clean shaven; the lack of facial hair revealed a prominent dimple in his chin. His thin body was hidden underneath layers of thick robes. The entire presentation stirred Shanoa's suspicions. He was unthreatening to a fault. It was an obviously intentional effect, and that gave her cause to wonder.

What bothered her the most, however, were his eyes. Something familiar danced in his gaze as he looked upon the jeweler. Shanoa couldn't identify it from so far away, but it felt wrong, almost malicious in intent.

"– you can understand why we have cause for concern," the short man said as the warrior pulled back into the hidden safety of the hallway.

"And I'm sure you can understand why I'd feel threatened by this reception," Laura said in a curt tone.

"I've never blamed you, Laura," he said with some insistence. "We all have our weaknesses, but what makes a community strong is how we support each other when these personal flaws present themselves."

"I haven't been part of your community for years."

"Distance has no bearing on the bonds we've forged. I watched you grow up, and I'm protective of all my children." The old man's words stirred a memory in Shanoa's mind. She knew who he was, and it took every ounce of her willpower to resist the urge to burst into the living room on the rush of righteous fury.

"Then go tend to the ones who need protecting." There was fear laced in Laura's voice, though she attempted to mask it as best she could.

"I am."

"Matthew," Tatiana interjected, "if you have something to say then say it. We were just about to sit down for dinner and I'd rather not continue the delay." Father Matthew sighed.

"I'd hoped for your support, Tatiana."

"That's hard for me to extend to anyone who barges into my home unannounced." The healer's voice carried a threat, and Shanoa was inclined to believe she'd act on it. However, the large man could overpower Tatiana with ease.

"You know my intentions aren't malicious," the priest said.

"Then we can arrange to speak at a later date."

"I'd prefer to have this conversation before your daughter and her guest skip town."

"I told you to leave her out of this," Laura said. Her words were punctuated by a low growl.

"You know I can't do that, Laura-"

"Is there a problem?" Shanoa stepped into the living room before she could second guess the impulse. All eyes turned upon her as she entered. Tatiana's expression made clear her irritation, though the warrior knew it was not directed at her. Laura, on the other hand, appeared to be on the brink of tears. The jeweler's face was reddened by fury, but her eyes betrayed her innate fear of the men in the room. Shanoa gave her lover a look of confidence before she turned to the strangers.

The large man's expression remained stoic as the warrior entered. He said nothing, but his eyes followed her every movement. They charted the way her body flowed across the floor, noted the physical strength that resided in her lean form, and subtly searched for weaknesses. She wondered for a moment what he had expected to find in this house. Did she resemble the figure he'd envisioned awaited him?

Father Matthew's complete attention fixed on the warrior. His eyes were still clouded by that familiar sheen, and her stomach lurched when she at last drew close enough to identify it. He had Barlowe's eyes; marked by a predatory glint that was ever present beneath a passive façade. That was all she needed to know about the priest. She felt a surge of hatred for this man, but it was tempered by the understanding that he could be conquered.

"This is your guest, I presume?" Father Matthew asked.

"Who else would I be?" Shanoa came to a stop before him, though still far enough away that she was out of arm's reach.

"A fair point." The priest extended his hand with a faux smile. "Greetings, my child, I am Father Matthew."

"Shanoa." She did not acknowledge the offered hand. Instead, she continued to stare into the priest's eyes with a look that – while not outright cold – made clear her displeasure. Matthew chuckled and lowered his hand.

"That's quite a unique name," he said.

"Is there something you wanted?" she asked with impatience.

"Yes, actually, we don't get many visitors in Baia and I always like to make strangers feel welcome. However, I've received some." Father Matthew paused. "_Unsettling_ reports today." Shanoa raised an eyebrow at his emphasis.

"And what do these reports entail?" she asked.

"They're rumors, mostly, about a fierce young woman with flesh marked by strange, occult symbols." Though the smile remained on his lips the predatory gleam in his eyes grew more pronounced. "I'm sure you can understand why I, as a man of the cloth, would have cause to be concerned." Tatiana cut in with a scoff.

"Honestly, Matthew, you're being rude to both my daughter and my guest," the healer said. "Just what do you hope to achieve by making these outlandish accusations?"

"Peace of mind, at the very least." His eyes briefly cut to Tatiana in a clear reprimand. "It is my job, after all, to watch for wolves that may wander amongst my flock."

"My intentions are far from malicious," Shanoa said. The smile drained from the priest's face as a deep frown overtook his expression.

"So you don't deny the rumors?" he asked.

"Why should I?" The warrior squared her shoulders with pride. "I don't hide what I am."

"Then you won't mind my request that you remove your shirt."

"Father-!" Tatiana balked, but he held up his hand.

"I just wish to see her arms. That will be enough to satisfy me."

"Very well," Shanoa said with a nod. She pulled the beige shirt over her head. The white camisole underneath covered her chest and torso, but it had looped straps in lieu of sleeves. A tense silence settled over the room when her tattoos became visible. The large man drew himself up to his full height. Father Matthew's disturbed frown became more pronounced; his lips drawn into thin lines. "I trust this is sufficient?"

"What do they mean?" the priest asked. His voice held a sharp edge to it, but the warrior shook her head.

"I offered you a glimpse, not an explanation."

"You're a witch," he said in a tone harsh with accusation. A smirk tugged at the corners of Shanoa's mouth.

"Conjurer would be more precise. Calling me a witch gives the wrong impression."

"Call it any name you wish; it doesn't change what you are." The pretense of civility was gone from Father Matthew's demeanor. He glared up at the warrior with a brand of seething hatred that she would only spare for the likes of her most despised enemies. "I've seen your ilk before, and I know what you're capable of."

"I told you that I have no intention of harming anyone-"

"But you've already done that, haven't you?" A devious glint flashed in his eyes. "Laura is susceptible to bewitchment. She's fallen prey to at least one seductress in the past, but I was able to extract the demon from her. I can do so again."

"You speak as if I've placed some sort of enchantment on her."

"I have witnesses that will swear by it." His eye twitched. "They saw your assault." Shanoa gave him a blank stare for a moment before a low chuckle escaped from her throat. She decided it was best to meet the issue head on. Honesty was always preferable to outright avoidance.

"I'd hardly qualify a kiss as an 'assault'." She did not make an effort to hide the delight in her tone. Father Matthew hissed on a sharp intake of breath.

"Then it's settled." He grimaced and pointed towards the door. "I would ask you to leave Baia peacefully so as to avoid any unnecessary struggle." Shanoa glanced up at the large man.

"Is that why he's here?" she asked.

"Petru is a man of devout faith and not one to be trifled with," the priest said with pride. Petru crossed his arms over his massive chest.

"You have strength, witch, but I have bested stronger." His voice was a deep baritone that hummed in the warrior's ears. It would have enthralled her if not for the open threat.

"No, you've never faced someone like me," the warrior said. Tatiana stomped her foot, but failed to garner the full attention of the disputing parties.

"You've overstepped your bounds, Matthew," the healer said in a booming voice. "I will not ignore this insult." The priest smacked his lips. It was an odd sound that momentarily drew Shanoa out of the intensity of the moment.

"I know you have a more lenient view towards magic, Tatiana, but we're fighting for your daughter's soul. You should appreciate my efforts."

"Get out," Laura said, though her voice cracked on both words. It carried the weight of all the pain the jeweler had confessed when she recounted the exorcism; an ugly understanding that most people would openly and deliberately despise her.

Shanoa decided that it was time to put an end to this. She caught the jeweler's gaze and looked at her with boundless sympathy reflected in her blue eyes.

"Hold this for me," the warrior said in a soft voice. She held out the beige shirt and Laura took it from her without a word. Shanoa stepped back into a more open area of the room. Petru's stance shifted; his body coiled and ready to spring. Father Matthew's eyes narrowed as she retreated.

"If you run-"

"I won't." Shanoa rolled her shoulders. The skin of her back hummed with anticipation, but she sighed when she realized there was an obstacle. "Tatiana, I'm sorry about the camisole." The healer gave her a puzzled look, though she did not get the opportunity to inquire about it.

Shanoa summoned Volaticus. The large wings sprouted from her back in a stream of ebony feathers. Their purple aura spread to encompass her entire body and the warrior glowed in its ethereal light. She stood poised, menacing, her wings extended to either side in an effort to display their impressive length. The room, however, was not spacious enough for such a demonstration.

There was an audible gasp, but she could not determine from whom it originated. The men stared at her in dumbfounded amazement for a moment before she saw panicked fear consume their eyes. Father Matthew reached for something beneath the folds of his robe. Shanoa spied a flash of purple light as it reflected off the metal of an unseen weapon. The priest was bolder than she'd given him credit for.

Melio Confodere flowed through her right arm; the rapier materialized in her hand the instant she summoned it. Father Matthew drew back with a start as she pointed the tip of the blade at his chest. The weapon fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor. She didn't pay it any heed, but she saw Petru twitch with indecision.

"I suggest you don't move," the warrior said to both men.

"You _are_ a witch." Father Matthew's voice lacked the vindictive fervor it had previously held.

"Perhaps in the simplest of terms." A slight frown touched Shanoa's lips. "I doubt you could fully appreciate what I am and what I've done." She paused as Petru made a sudden move to lunge at her. The warrior reacted at once and thrust out her left arm. A bolt of bright blue lightning erupted from her fingertips. It arced through the air, the lightning snapped mere inches from Petru's face, and hit the wall behind him in a bright flash. "I told you not to move." That was enough incentive and his entire body froze. The large man looked down at her. Something strange flooded his eyes; a realization born of something other than fear.

"I don't think she's a witch," Petru said. "They don't have wings."

"Shut up!" Father Matthew snapped, but as he stared up at Shanoa it seemed to dawn on him just how small he truly was. She saw him cower before her, though – despite his wickedness – the sight was something the warrior was hard-pressed to enjoy.

"I tend to loathe fear tactics," she said, "but you have forced my hand. I do not bow in the face of a threat. I rise up to meet the challenge. Such has always been my nature." The priest's eyes cut to the ethereal weapon aimed at his chest.

"If you're going to kill us-"

"Of course not." Shanoa suppressed a scoff at the very idea. "Despite what you may think of me, I am not a murderer." Her tone hardened. "This is just a warning: you do not face helpless women here."

"Witches don't have wings, Father," Petru said once again. "No one does." The look in his eyes confounded her. Few people had beheld Volaticus' form, but they all regarded her with the same curious expression. She had even seen it in Laura's eyes after the ambush.

What was it?

"Petru, sometimes it's prudent to hold your tongue." Father Matthew attempted a sigh and failed. There was a glimmer of that same realization in the priest's eyes, but not nearly as pronounced. Still, he tried to force a glare at the fearsome warrior. "You may carry the guise of divinity, but I know what you are. However, I am not a foolish man. I can recognize a futile battle when I see one."

"Then you will leave us in peace for the duration of our stay," Shanoa said. A vicious intent momentarily swirled behind Father Matthew's fear and she quashed it with a sneer. "Recite as many prayers as you wish, but there is no enchantment to break. The ability to sway minds is not within my power, nor would I desire to employ such a tactic. Now, I believe it's time for you to leave."

The warrior jerked her head towards the front door. The men stood their ground, but her glare and a slight flick of her rapier left no room for argument. Petru was the first to acquiesce. He gave her a final confusing glance and headed towards the door. Father Matthew opened his mouth in the wish to hurl a protest, but once again he failed in the endeavor. A deep frown creased his lips and he stomped after Petru. The large man held the door open for his elder and closed it behind them.

A small grin of smug satisfaction curved in the corners of Shanoa's mouth. She was never one to indulge in victorious pride, but it felt appropriate given the situation. She dismissed the Glyphs in tandem: Melio Confodere dissipated into countless beads of light as the feathers of Volaticus shed from her wings and dispersed in much the same fashion. The purple aura faded once both Glyphs had disappeared.

Shanoa turned to face her two companions. Tatiana appeared stupefied; her eyes wide and her mouth hung open without producing any noise.

Laura was quite the different story.

Her amber eyes danced once more with feral energy, but there was no element of playfulness in their intent. It was a needy, demanding urge. Laura's chest heaved and she gripped the beige shirt in her hands. Her entire body was held taut as she battled the desire to spring forth in spontaneous action.

Shanoa felt something inside her wither under that gaze; a prominent barrier of restraint and self-consciousness that dissolved without warning. It was replaced by the new – and yet so familiar – desire to simply _act _without giving a damn. She wanted to throw Laura against the wall and feel everything her body had to offer, every curve, every contour, because there was no hypnotic power on Earth that forced Laura to acquiesce to its will. Their bond was something no spell could ever hope to forge, and it suddenly commanded a tribute that only bare flesh would appease.

The longer the warrior stared into her lover's eyes the stronger the urge became until she was consumed by it.

"Well." Tatiana's voice jolted her out of the delicious temptation of the moment. "That was entirely unexpected."

* * *

><p><strong>Additional notes:<strong> I find the gap in Belmont history during the 19th and 20th centuries to be one of the most fascinating aspects of Castlevania lore. Up until their disappearance only a Belmont could slay Dracula, but all of the games that take place during this time period have him defeated by heroes who are decidedly not Belmonts. It's given me plenty of cause to wonder about the state of the clan during this time. As evidenced by the emergence of Julius – arguably the strongest Belmont on record – they were far from idle, but there must have been a shift in priorities. I don't expect Konami to answer that question anytime soon, though, so once again I construct my own reasons.


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